Born to Die: The 77th Hunger Games
by the consulting marauder
Summary: Closed SYOT. The districts exist to provide for the Capitol. Their citizens' purpose is to entertain them. Their childhood belongs to them. Their children are not born to succeed or live to an old age. They were born to die.
1. Bloodlust

Her heels left indents in the red velvet carpet, her eyes scanning the dark mahogany walls as she examined one of the only places in the world that could discomfit her. The rest of the building had a rather upbeat atmosphere, but the farther you traveled inward, the more you realized the truth of this place. This small hallway and handful of isolated offices were the only parts of the building that truly reflected its nature.

It was quiet, almost off puttingly so, and she felt the need to keep her steps as silent as possible to not disrupt it. She tried to keep her eyes looking straight forward at her destination, the grand door at the end of the hall that contained the nation's most powerful figure.

Her annual visits to the President were a cause of great anxiety to her; which was saying something, because she prized herself in being able to stay calm and collected, or at least appear so. It was apart of her job, and she took great pride in it. She had some to dread these meetings, but she attempted to compose herself before entering the most fearsome room.

The office was in the shape of a circle, the wall opposite her made entirely of windows. It was evening, and a sliver of moonlight made its way inside, but for the most part, it was dark. Sitting behind the desk large enough to nearly span the room, was the figure that could fill her both with fear and admiration. The nametag on its front read _President Cornelius Snow_.

"Hello, Mr. President," she said, raising her voice a decibel higher than it usually was.

The man glanced up from his paperwork and gave her venomous smile.

"Hello, Miss. Presque," he said. He nodded at a high-backed chair in front of his desk. "Sit."

She obeyed and crossed her legs in front of her, clasping her hands together. She purposely avoided gazing around the room that was lavishly decorated but draped in shadow, eerie and unwelcoming.

"Let's get right down to business," Snow said softly, adjusting a vase of roses to his right. Miss Presque caught of whiff of highly enhanced rose scent.

"Yes, sir. I can assure you before we even begin that everything is running as smoothly as possible," she said, probably too quickly.

The President gave no indication that he noticed her discomfort. "That is good to know. As you know, these meetings are really more of a formality than anything. As the country's leader, I should hear directly from you that there are no problems." He said this all very slowly.

"Of course, sir," she said, then was silent again.

Snow smiled. "I assume the escorts have been assigned their districts and the Peacekeepers have been informed of their duties."

"The Peacekeepers have all been taken care of, yes," she said, then with more caution, "However, I am not directly involved with the escorts. Their deadline is next week, and I believe they all like to know their districts at least a month before, so… I would consider it done."

"I understand," Snow said. "But I hope you see the difference between considering it done, and actually having it done."

"Yes, sir," she said. And before he could ask, "All the stylists are accounted for, too, sir. As well as Avoxes needed for the Training Center, and the arena is fully operational."

"I would expect nothing less of the youngest female Gamemaker to grace Panem," Snow smiled. She returned it halfheartedly.

"Now, shall we talk more in depth?"

…

The season officially began when the Gamemaking Center turned on its lights. The golden lights that shined outside the enormous building in the center of the Capitol first turned on the night before the Reaping, and would continue to do so every evening until the night following the victor's interview with Caesar Flickerman. People from all over the Capitol traveled to see the lights that everyone had been waiting for, to take pictures of themselves with them and mark special life moments; like a baby's first Hunger Games or a first Games as a married couple. The lights also signified when the Hunger Games cafes and themed restaurants opened for business. It was the happiest time of the year, and it showed on the morning of the Reaping when Bellona Presque woke early to get to work.

Evidence that today was Reaping day was everywhere; all the broadcasting networks were playing footage of last year's Reaping and announcing the current most popular bets on who be the Tributes this year. When Bellona's Avox opened the drapes in her living room, she could see the neighbor's decorations, their windows lit up with the words _Happy Hunger Games!_ and _May may the odds be ever in your favour!_. Bellona lived in what the Capitolites called "Gamemaker Square", a section of the city where current and formerly great Gamemakers lived with their families. It was known that if you couldn't move into the Square when you were hired as a Gamemaker, you probably wouldn't last very long in the job. Due to this, the houses did put their decorations up rather early, but it wasn't an occurrence that only happened in the Square. Hunger Games enthusiasts everywhere had been preparing for this day for weeks, even months. It wasn't called the happiest time of the year for nothing.

Bellona's Avox did her hair nicely, the dark bun atop her head, dyed with bright green streaks going nicely with the green dress she had picked out the night before. It was in the current style of the upper class; with the material bunching out at the waist and hugging her legs. Bellona powdered her face to achieve the unique look she had become known for in the Capitolite public. The jade green of the dress contrasted greatly with pale skin and dark eyes. It played right into the Head Gamemaker persona; a mysterious and powerful leader, yet still connected with nature and the workings of the world.

It was a concept that Bellona could pull off very easily, probably because it was very close to her true self. She had always understood the natural world order; it was the common belief that civilization was somehow superior to more primitive ways of living, but Bellona knew differently. Violence, fear, and death were all parts of society just as much as they always have been. One thing that couldn't be found in nature, however, is war, a special invention made by "civilized" people to explain the thirst for blood that everyone is born with.

If there was one thing that Bellona loved the most about the Hunger Games, it would be the uncensored truth that comes with them each year. They were a time when Panem is free to show its true self.

A limousine showed up at the front door of Bellona's villa without her even having to call for it; the service was expected for all Gamemakers during the season. Bellona left the Avox with orders to clean the lounge and dining room, surely she would be expected to host a party for her co-workers at some point, most likely on one of the two days the Gamemakers had off at this time of year. Well, the training days the Tributes had before their interviews weren't exactly "days off", but they were the closest they could get.

The limo arrived at the Gamemaking Center a mere half an hour later, but it was already late enough for the swarms of paparazzi to be gathering outside. As soon as Bellona set foot outside of the vehicle, reporters and photographers were on her like a predator on its prey. Bellona just smiled at each of them, gracefully sidestepping every attempt to delay her entering the building. Finally one of them asked her a question that she could actually answer.

"Miss Presque, what do you think will make these Games stand out from the rest?"

The rest continued to jabber on, pressing farther in, shouting and all vying for her attention, but they all fell silent when Bellona began to speak. She gave the woman who asked the question a professional smile, and with her best Head Gamemaker voice, said,

"Every Games is unique in their own way. The Tributes make it so, as does the arena, and the wonderful people who all work together to make the Games truly the happiest time of the year."

The reporters were all feverishly writing every word down on their notepads, then started shouting questions again, but Bellona was already disinterested. Her heels today were designed to look like they were made of pure jade straight out of the mines, and they clicked against the marble steps as she ascended up to the entrance.

The swinging door shut behind her, and the atmosphere completely changed. Everyone was moving about in a great hurry in here as well, but no one paid her any attention. They were all absorbed in their own work; last minute preparations for who was driving certain Tributes where, who was responsible for decorating District Two's apartment in the Training Center, because it looked so two years ago. Bellona squeezed her way to a set of secure doors near the front desk. She swiped her ID card and the screen blinked green. The secretary, preoccupied with a phone call, nodded in her direction and the doors slid open.

Here, things were a little less chaotic. Very few people who worked in the Gamemaking Center were actually Gamemakers. This section of the building was where they worked their magic, the only place where Bellona was surrounded by colleagues rather than those she was charged to entertain.

Bellona approached the round table where some Gamemakers were already seated, making sure everything is in order. There wasn't much to do at this point except sit back and watch, but Bellona prided herself in having a hard-working, determined team. She shrugged off her fur jacket and placed her hands on her hips, sighing as she watched the big screen in front of the circular table. Shots of the twelve districts were being shown at different points on the screen. Everything seemed to be in order; the Peacekeepers appeared to be doing their pre-Reaping check for threats. There was always a chance that angry District citizens could try to put an end to the ceremonies.

The screen switched to show scenes from around the Capitol as people celebrated the beginning of the Hunger Games season. It was only seven, so the first reaping was still two hours away, but on Reaping Day, everyone rose early with excitement, their bones rattling in their bodies and blood singing to see what their primal selves desired. The atmosphere during the season was indescribable, incomparable. Bellona closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, smiling wide, just taking in all of it. The low hum of her team in the background, the cheers of the Capitolites on the screen, the elated feeling of creating all of it. She was responsible for this; the one who was gifted enough and enough of a visionary to put this all together. Most Head Gamemakers didn't last but a few years in the position, but Bellona thought that maybe a few weeks of this feeling once a year for three or four years was all that a person needed to be satisfied for the rest of their life.

At that moment, a rerun of Bellona's pre-Games interview with Caesar Flickerman the night before came on the screen. Bellona opened her eyes and smiled even wider at the sight of herself, dressed in a red, flowy gown, talking up her team to Flickerman. Everyone present erupted into applause, most of them smiling in her direction. Bellona could only pick out a few that were faking it. An improvement from last year, when her predecessor had retired and appointed her as his successor with the approval of the president. Many were skeptical that she could handle the job. The average age of the Head Gamemaker was mid-thirties, and Bellona was twenty-five, making her the youngest female Head Gamemaker in Panem's history. To top it all off, there hadn't been many female Head Gamemakers, period. Bellona was the nation's 34th Head Gamemaker, and only ten women before her had taken up the position. But Bellona wasn't very concerned about how some numbers put her in the history books. She wanted to be remembered because of her Games. And, apparently, her colleagues seemed to understand that more now.

Bellona did a little bow and there was some scattered laughter. "You did very well, Miss Presque," a man a few years younger than her said from his seat, smiling.

"Thank you, Livianus," she answered with a light laugh. Livianus reminded her of herself sometimes, except for when he tried to suck up to her. Still, he was a hard worker and definitely had a future in Gamemaking. She always tried to weigh her team's strengths against their weaknesses to form a well-rounded opinion of them. In this line of work, there wasn't any room for bias.

Everyone watched the rest of the interview and clapped again when it was over, the screen switching back to shots of various Districts. Bellona hung her coat on her chair at the head of the table and pressed a button on her console. Immediately, a young girl with silver hair down to her waist, unnaturally pale blue eyes and stark white skin appeared from Bellona's private office. Her unworldly appearance was complete with eyelashes as long as her nose and a light blue tattoo that snaked down the side of her face and arms.

"Yes, Miss Presque?" she asked respectfully, tablet clasped in front of her.

"Is my breakfast ready, Aelia?" Bellona asked, taking a seat and opening up her own screen on the table. She had a message from President Snow making sure that everything was running smoothly. She tapped the button to reply, thinking over possible ways to sound busy but unconcerned.

"It is; I'll grab it for you," Aelia said, hurrying away. Bellona watched her go fondly. She always appreciated people who knew their style. Not just what they could wear, but how they held themselves, the inflections of their voice, and the whole image that they created for themselves. Aelia was certainly someone with these qualities, and she would do well here, even just as Bellona's assistant.

Bellona sighed and glanced around the room proudly, realizing just how well she had done in choosing her team this year. Of course, most of them were hand-me-downs from the Head Gamemaker before her, Seneca Crane. She had been very close to Seneca, and close to the team when she was apart of it. Seneca was a genius and everyone respected him for it. But she knew in her years as Head Gamemaker she would make the team her own. She would make the Games her own. She truly was the most powerful woman in Panem. That no one could deny.

"Miss Presque?"

Bellona turned to see Aelia standing with coffee and cinnamon roll in hand. The frosting was artfully painted so that the bun resembled a flower. Bellona took the breakfast with a curt smile, sitting at her desk and beginning to type out a reply to the President. Aelia hurried back to Bellona's private office, not used very much during the season, to make sure they had everything they needed for the next few weeks. Bellona sent the message to Snow with a genuine smile. By the end of the night, she would have twenty-four lives in the palm of her hand, their destinies hers to decide, their deaths all according to her own design.

Life had never tasted so sweet in her mouth. She bet it tasted even sweeter after fighting for it; for the privilege of life. Soon, one child out of the twenty-four would have the pleasure of knowing.

 **…**

 **Welcome to my SYOT! I've been wanting to write one for years, but I've only now got around to it. Truthfully, this fic is somewhat of a writing exercise for me. I'm currently trying to write a novel, but I've been feeling unmotivated and need to start writing on a schedule. I hope writing this fic will help with that, as well as writing using a variety of characters. Since one of the reasons I'm writing this is to get myself to write quicker and more often, I can promise that this SYOT won't be abandoned like so many others. I promise to update even if I think the chapter isn't up to my standards. I don't know if that is comforting to readers or not, but that's just my goal.**

 **With that said, maybe I should explain some things about this AU. In this universe, Gale convinced Katniss to run away with him before the Reaping. They decide to sneak away while everyone is busy with the Reaping, find somewhere to lay low and come back for their families later. Unfortunately, this means Prim is reaped with no one to volunteer for her. Peeta does his best to protect her, but Cato ends up winning the 74th Hunger Games. As such, the rebellion never happens and the Games continue. Sidenote, because the Capitol didn't have to kill Katniss and Peeta to stop the rebellion, the Third Quarter Quell is not reaped from the existing pool of victors, but instead was played without weapons. The tributes had to kills the others with their hands or with makeshift weapons.**

 **Please submit tributes if you would like! There are more details on my page. Everyone can submit up to two tributes. I'm looking forward to reading your submissions. :)**


	2. Sponsor's Square

**Hello everyone! Since someone messaged me about having a sponsor system, I decided to create one! I wrote this chapter to tide everyone over until the Reapings start and the system will be explained at the end of the chapter. ;)**

 **I also decided I didn't like the third person perspective in the first chapter and have switched to first person instead. Sorry if you liked the third person. :(**

 _Marcelle Agelasta- Capitol Citizen, Gamemaker_

I know that dealing with the sponsors is an important and integral part to the Hunger Games. I understand that, and I'm honored that Bellona has given me the honor of overseeing this crucial part of the happiest time of the year. That being said, I hate dealing with these Capitolites.

In any other situation, I would love to chat with influential members of Capitol society. But today, when the wealthiest families in Panem are gathered in the Sponsors Square to get drunk and watch the Reapings, they are not on their best behavior. I turn up my nose as a horribly drunk man staggers past me, looking for the bathroom. I don't want to imagine why.

I turn to the giant screens at the center of the square. Claudius Templesmith was giving a recap of last year's Games and projections for this year's Reaping. Normally, I would love to watch this part of the pre-Reaping festivities with my co-workers at the Gamemaking Center, but instead I was here surrounded by sheeple. Despite how much I love Clovia Vatia's fashion designs and Kaeso Clemens' acting, they don't understand the Games the same way Bellona and I do. I try not to think about what Bellona must think of me to assign me to this task.

"How's it going?"  
I turn and smile when I see who it is. "Rowan! By Snow, it's good to see you."

Rowan raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Of course!" I say indignantly. "These people are so… undignified."

"Oh. Bellona seems to think you would like this job."

I grit my teeth. "Did she?"

It's hard to believe that Bellona and I were so close when we were younger I don't begrudge her for becoming Head Gamemaker; that was always her dream and is simply too much responsibility for me. But since her promotion, it just seems like she's forgotten all about me. How could she think I would enjoy dealing with the sponsors?

"Have you given them the spiel yet?" Rowan asks, dark red hair down up out of his face, shining in the sunlight from the glass roof. At least Rowan is still on my level, I reflect.

"Nope, not yet." I shake my head. "Most of them know it anyway, and I don't really want to address them all again. Half of them didn't even pay attention!"

"Come on now, it's you job," Rowan says good-naturedly, stepping onto the podium in the middle of the room and muting the Tvs with his arm motions. "Everyone, it's time for the explanation of the sponsorship system! My dear friend Marcelle Agelasta will take it from here."

Eyes sparkling, he waves me up. I sigh and ascend to his level. "Thank you, Rowan."

All of the sponsors are staring at me expectantly, though a few are still conversing loudly in the back. I take a deep breath and put on a false chipper voice. "Well, everyone, time to get started!"

…

 **Well, there's an introduction to some more of my Capitol characters. The tributes are coming along nicely and I really like them! I can tell you guys put a lot of effort into making them. I'm really looking forward to writing about them. I think the story is going to be exceptionally good because of how excellent they are.**

 **Now for the sponsorship system. It will be posted here and on my profile.**

 **SPONSORSHIP SYSTEM**

 **WHO can sponsor?**

 **Anyone, even if they haven't submitted a tribute.**

 **WHO can I sponsor?**

 **Any tribute, even if they aren't your own.**

 **HOW can I sponsor?**

 **Once the Games actually begin, you can send me a PM with who you would like to**

 **sponsor and what you would like to give them. Each item will cost points.**

 **HOW can I earn points?**

 **Submitting a tribute (you can submit up to two) earns you twenty points.**

 **Comments (that are constructive) will earn you five points each. I will only count**

 **one comment per chapter.**

 **Follows and Favorites will NOT earn you points. I just don't want to seem like I'm**

 **begging for follows and favorites.**

 **HOW will we keep track of points?**

 **I will keep track of the points on my profile, which will be updated each time**

 **someone buys something. I suggest you also keep track of your own points,**

 **however.**

 **WHAT happens when I sponsor someone?  
** **When a tribute is sponsored, whatever you bought them might not show up in the**

 **next chapter if I wasn't planning on writing about that tribute in that chapter. It will**

 **likely show up the next time I write about them.**

 **If a lot of people are sponsoring the same tribute at the same time, I might stagger the gifts out throughout the story so they don't get it all at once.**

 **You can only give a tribute ONE item each time you sponsor them, and you can only sponsor ONE tribute each chapter.**

 **WHAT about the price?**

 **Like in the books, the items will be very expensive.**

 **HERE IS THE LIST OF ITEMS**

 **Food (you can choose what kind)- 50 points**

 **Canteen of water or packet of iodine- 75 points**

 **A tool for survival, such as a fire-starter kit, rope, a sleeping bag, etc.- 100 points**

 **Small weapon, such as a knife, hatchet, etc.- 125 points**

 **Large weapon, such as a sword, axe, spear, bow and quiver of arrows, etc- 150 points**

 **If an item you want to buy isn't on the list, just PM me about it and we can work it out.**

 **I hope you guys like the sponsor system and will participate! I think it will make the Games more interesting. If you have any questions, just send me a PM or leave a comment. I will start counting the comments for this system after I post this chapter.**

 **I will post the District One and possibly the District Two reapings tomorrow. I'm hoping to do at least one everyday so we can get to the really good stuff. But to do that I'll need all my tributes, and some of the spots are still open! Please consider submitting a second tribute if you haven't, or even just one if you haven't submitted any.**

 **Thanks everyone!**


	3. District 1 Reaping

_Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

This was it. The morning of the Reaping. After arranging my freshly curled hair over my shoulders, I stride over to my dresser. The large sapphire glints in the sun streaming through the window. Imprinted into it is the crest of my family. I wipe over it with my thumb and smile; it really is beautiful. My mother truly made me an amazing token. It will be nice to bring something she hand-crafted for me into the arena.

I clasp the necklace around my neck and gaze at myself in the mirror. I look everything that a victor should be. I'm an angel with beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes that match my sapphire necklace. My lean and muscled build is hidden by my pure white dress, but when I stand up straight, there's no mistaking my confidence. I'm sure the Capitol will be clambering over each other to sponsor me.

There's a knock on my door.

"Come in!" I call gently. I expect my mother or sister, but it's someone better.

"Price!" I ran over and jump onto him, laughing as he wraps his arms around me.

"You look beautiful, Tiffany" Price whispers in my ear.

"You haven't even seen me yet!" I laugh, stepping back and spinning around for him. The dress twirls around me, as does my perfectly layered hair. I'm giggling when I finish.

"Like I said, beautiful." Price smiles. He's looking his best as well in a crisp white dress shirt and black pants. It's somewhat plain, like my outfit, but that just lends more attention to us; our faces and bodies. This will be especially important for me. Anyone who knows anything about the Hunger Games knows that your first impression with the Capitol is crucial to obtaining sponsors.

I hear my family downstairs in the kitchen. I kiss Price on the cheek and drift past him and down the stairs. Butterflies are starting to flutter in my stomach, but I tamp them down firmly. I've earned this. I've trained for almost 10 years for this, and I'm going to prove myself to the entire country of Panem.

I eat the breakfast my mom has made for us while casually deflecting Kara's questions.

"What will you wear at the parade?" she asks, wide-eyed. Although Kara is not in training herself to be a tribute, she has an admirable interest in the Games, particularly the flashy parts.

"We don't know what our outfits will be before we get there," I tell her gently.

"I bet Dad could make you the best outfit the Capitol has ever seen!" Kara exclaims. "You should ask them to bring them in!"

I feel the corner of the mouth twitch. Our father is indeed an amazing fashion designer, but I know that the Capitolites will create much better costumes for us.

"Maybe I'll see what I can do about that," my dad says, eyes twinkling.

"And Mom can make your jewelry!"  
"She already did," I say, touching my necklace. "It really is beautiful, Mom."

"Thank you, my dear," My mom says sweetly. My mother inherited her jewelry business from her own parents, who taught her who to make gorgeous jems and trinkets for the Capitol from a young age. The same thing happened to my father with fashion design business. My family is one of the wealthiest in District One, like most Career families, but I'd always felt a little guilty about having everything handed to me. Then when I was around eleven, District One won the Hunger Games. The victor was beautiful and vicious and admired by everyone… but most importantly, she had earned all of it on her own. Nothing was handed to her; she had worked hard her whole life to deserve the praise, and she would reap the benefits for the rest of her life. I loved my parents, but I wanted to actually earn something for myself instead of being gently spoonfed my entire life.

I'm proud to say that I've earned this. I deserve to be chosen out of all the otehr girls at the Academy.

"We should hurry and get to the Reaping," Price whispers lowly to me. I nod and kiss my parents on the cheeks before heading out with him and Kara.

I keep an eye out for Tiger before the Reaping begins. I thought I would congratulate him for being chosen and maybe reflect on our years in training together. We're going to be a team during the Games, so I want to start our time out amicably. Tiffany and Tiger. The Capitol will love that.

They will also love watching me kill him when the alliance dissolves. I'm not naive about the Games themselves, and I'm prepared to earn my victory, not just my trip to the Capitol.

 _Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M_

My eyes scan the crowd in front of me. District One's past victors are lined up on stage, waiting for the Reaping to begin. Our last victor is from the 68th Games, almost ten years ago. It's a disgrace, to say the least. Some of our tributes have been dying within the first couple of days. I try not to think about one person in particular who met that exact fate.

I can feel my parents watching me from the sidelines, but I ignore them. They would usually be chatting animatedly with the parents of their pupils who have been chosen do volunteer, as they often do during the Reapings. But that was when I was in the younger sections of the square.

My parents' hypocrisy is so apparent that I can't believe I'm the only one that sees it. They will train other teenagers to go die in the arena, but they don't want me, actual victor material, to volunteer? That's complete bullshit.

Soon my sister Gemma will experience the same thing I've gone through for six years once she starts her training after these Games. Like any young person with ambition whose destined to become anything, she's always had an interest in the Games. She's never understood why I've always been so cold with our parents, but she soon will.

The escort, a garish woman dressed in a bright gold jumpsuit that hurts the eyes, mounts the stage. I stand up straight and rehearse my introduction in my head. I volunteer! My name is Tiger Emerald and I'm here to win the 77th Hunger Games.

The mayor explains why we're all here and shows us the usual video, but I'm hardly paying attention, even as Tiffany Silk volunteers and is presented to the Capitol via television. She looks the same she always does, flawless with her hair and makeup done to perfection. Her outfit is simple, just like her. She waves good-naturedly to the camera and the escort is delighted for some godforsaken reason. I volunteer! My name is Tiger Emerald and I'm here to win the 77th Hunger Games.

"And now for the boys!" the woman cries excitedly.

I let out a deep breath, anticipation almost choking me.

"Tiger Emerald!"

" I vol-"

Everyone turns to me as I begin to shout my practiced lines. It takes a second before what was happened to sink in. Shit. I didn't practice for this.

I find myself looking for my parents in the crowd. My eyes meet my mother's wide ones, glimmering with something strange… hope. She hopes someone will volunteer in my place. Anger filling every inch of my being, I realize what I need to do. find my legs start to move toward the stage.

The escort is as shocked as everyone else. As I climb the stairs, I make sure to stare daggers at the boys section. If anyone tries to steal this from me, I will kill them before the other Tributes get the chance to.

The square is dead silent as I take the microphone from the escort and announce without being prompted, "My name is Tiger Emerald and I am here to win the 77th Hunger Games!"

There's no applause like there was for Tiffany, but I grin anyway. I've never been a good celebrity figure, but instilling fear has always been my specialty.

…

Gemma is the first one to run into the room and leap into my arms. Most of the time her naitivity annoys me, but when she asks, "Tiger, you were reaped! Why didn't someone else volunteer?" I can't help but smile at her.

"They know I'm the best person for the job."

My father makes a strange noise and I look up at him, already feeling my expression harden.

"Tiger," he starts.

"Don't," I say angrily. They have been growing more and more insufferable the closer the Reaping crawled, and I'm tired of it.

"Just… remember what Blush did."

I immediately feel myself bristle. "Blush was an idiot!" I almost shout, though the words hurt me as they come of my mouth. "I'm not going to make the same stupid mistakes she did."

My cousin lost my respect when her head was bashed in by that brute from Two.

"At least take this," my mother says tearfully, trying to hand me a bracelet. I see it has the District One crest imprinted on it. I swat it out of her hands.

"Trainers at the Academy who don't even want their own son to volunteer," I continue, this time quieter. "You are the shame of our district and you try to give me that?"

No one answers. When the Peacekeepers come to drag them away, Gemma gives me one last hug, the usual confused expression on her face when I fight with our parents. I look past them into the hallway before the door closes, refusing to meet their eyes. Unfortunately that means I catch sight of Tiffany Silk's parents smiling and laughing as they walk past. The door swings shut.

I sit in silence for a few more minutes before the tears come.

 **Hey everyone! Here's the first Reaping.**

 **I had a lot of fun writing this one and I know you guys were eager to read it. The Two and Three reapings will likely both be posted tomorrow. I want to get through the reapings as quickly as possible so we can get to the good stuff, so I'm writing as fast as I can with school happening. I hope I portrayed Tiffany and Tiger correctly and that everyone likes the chapter!**


	4. District 2 Reaping

_Hadrian Cato (18) - D2M_

I smile when I hear the door open softly behind me, following through with my spear throw. The sharp point of the spear embeds itself in the dummy. I grin even wider, picking up the javelin that's beside me and turning suddenly, poised as if to throw it at my visitor.

"Hadrian!" Maximus shrieks. I chuckle goodnaturedly and instead aim my throw at a dummy not far away from my friend. Maximus knows not to move as the javelin whistles past him, almost sinking into its target. I curse loudly as it clatters to the floor.

"And to think you're this year's volunteer," a voice whispers into my ear. I jump and spun around to find a knife pressed to my throat, Minerva smirking at me. She drops it on the floor in front of me. Minerva has always been the best among us trainees at stealth. I was surprised when she wasn't chosen to volunteer along with me.

"I'm more worthy than anyone else, you know that," I say, unperturbed. I pick up the knife and twirl in my hand a bit, watching as Minerva sidled over to Maximus. Luckily, my friends don't blame me for being more talented than them. They have also practiced in this very academy for their entire lives for a chance to play in the Games, but now they never will. I had thought for sure that Maximus especially would hold a grudge against me, since we had been competing for the same spot. But Maximus was never one to get angry, I remark to myself wistfully. That's why he hadn't been chosen.

"Why are you practicing today?" Minerva asks me incredulously. "Surely one morning of practice isn't going to give you an edge."

I roll my eyes. "I was just bored." I throw the knife at the target opposite myself, pleased when it finds its home in the bull's eye.

After waking up this morning to my mother enthusiastically greeting my brother, Cassius, downstairs, my stomach had suddenly started to feel a little queasy. Not at the thought of blood or killing; I have been killing since I was twelve, when the Academy starts using live animals as their targets your practices. No, I know I'm capable of killing. It was the winning part I hadn't been so sure of.

It was a feeling I'm not used to. I don't doubt myself much, and confidence was something that the mentors at the Academy were always preaching about, so I know it's a good thing. But in that moment, listening to my brother, the victor of the 71st Hunger Games, talk about today's Reaping, I wasn't so sure of myself.

District 2 had been having somewhat of a winning streak recently. We were always the most adept and capable district, but even more so in the seventh decade of the Games. It started with Cassius winning the 71st Games. Then Cato won the 74th, not too uncommon. Then Celia won the 76th, just last year. That means the gaps between our victories were getting smaller. If I lost, I would not have a good legacy.

So, like so many times before, I had opened the window of my second-story bedroom and climbed out, rushing to the Academy to reassure myself of my skills.

How that I'm here, breathing in the scent of the rubber dummies and fake weapons, listening to the wind whistle through the rafters of the empty Academy building, I know everything will be alright. I am the trainee the mentors have chosen. I have never doubted myself before, and I'm not about to start.

"Well, you should go home and get dressed," Minerva says dryly. "It's your big day, after all."

…

 _Rufina Fastolf (18)- D2F_

Drusa and Drusus are chatting rapidly to each other as they walk ahead of me, completely the other's sentences every other second. The twins have always been insync, inseparable since they were born about three months after I was. All three of us will be in the eighteen-year old's section at the Reaping.

I don't hold it against my brother and sister that they were born in the same year as me, but sometimes I wonder if the world hates me. Why else would it make my mother despise me, give me away to another family, and with that same action steal my chance of volunteering away from me?

Our parents are walking beside me, holding hands and watching the District pass as we make our way to the Reaping. It's obvious that this is not my biological family. For one, I am descended from a different region of the world, my eyes thin and hair reddish black. My parents and siblings have the typical District Two appearance with light hair and grey eyes. Drusa and Drusus have a darker shade of hair, which can sometimes make us seem related, but most people know right away that we aren't.

It's not that I don't love my family, I just wish it wasn't so obvious that I was the shame of my real mother.

When we arrive at the Reaping, our parents pull Drusa aside to talk to her. She nods along as they give her encouragement, Drusus and I standing off at the side. Drusus' arms are crossed.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

He frowns, not uncommon for Drusus. "Yes, everything's fine, Rufina."

"You seem different than earlier," I remark, recalling how he had been so excited this morning to see his twin sister on the big screen, eager to give her advice.

He sighs. "It's just… Drusa was saying something to me."

Now I feel worry drop heavily into my stomach. Though they hate to hear it, Drusa and Drusus are almost always on the same page, seeming to reflect the other's emotion. "Saying what?"

Drusus turns away, which I know from experience means that he's about to say something he considers embarrassing. "This is going to be the longest time we've ever spent apart," he says quietly.

I don't respond right away, trying to figure out the right thing to say. This will be the longest time any of us have spent apart from Drusa, including me. And I imagine she won't mind the time away from our parents' nagging. But Drusus is a different story. His bond with her is far deeper than ours ever will be.

"It will be tough," I say eventually. "But she'll come back soon."

This time, he seems to be thinking of an answer. I know I haven't soothed his worries. Before he can say anything, Drusa bounds up to us. She smiles softly at me.

"Ready, guys?"

"I was born ready," I say in the voice of a movie hero, making her laugh.

As we make our way to our appropriate sections, I can't help but scan the crowd for my biological mother. The talk of missing family has been getting to me, I suppose. It's useless to look for her, of course. Why would she want to support her greatest shame? A mayor's daughter should never conceive before marriage, especially as young as she did.

As I'm about to give up, I spot her among a group of other wealthy officials. My heart leaps into my chest, the worry I felt earlier diminishing. It's happily replaced by a new idea, one that just might benefit everyone.

"Drusa," I whisper once we're in our section. "I have a proposition."

"Oh, do you?" she asks amusedly at a normal volume, clearly expecting one of my jokes.

"I do. Let me volunteer instead."  
Several emotions flash over her face. I can almost count them in succession: shock, confusion, anger, and finally contemplation. I'm sure I didn't imagine some relief in there as well.

"Why should I?" she asks finally.

"I know you don't want to leave Drusus. I'm capable and willing to go. You know I have what it takes. So do you, but if you don't want to, why should you when I'm willing to take your place?"

She stares at me for a little while, then quietly says, "Okay."

…

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

After listening to my parents fuss over my outfit for a good half-hour, I'm glad to finally be at the town-square. I love them, but I've never much cared for superficial things like appearance and fashion. I imagine the Capitol will not like that aspect of me, but I'm confident they will love everything else. A grin inadvertently appears on my face at the thought. The Capitol is going to love watching me onscreen. I can imagine the sponsors clamoring to give me their money now.

I'm feeling much better now that the Reaping is actually underway, and I know all of my fears were unnecessary. I'm going to win the Games, like Cassius before me, and bring glory to my family and my district. My nerves have been placed with nothing but excitement.

I spot Maximus in the crowd of eighteen-year olds as my finger is pricked. I don't even wince at the slight pain, eyes intent on the crowd. Our district escort is already onstage with the mayor and past victors. This year's mentors, Cato Barbatus and Celia Winterbourne, stand in front. Celia, with her dyed blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, grey eyes scanning the teenagers below her, Cato waving to the adoring crowd. Both the same as always. I puff my chest out as I walk to meet Maximus in our section,just in case they see me.

"She's hot, don't you think?" he asks me without preamble. I follow his eyes to see he's staring at Celia.

"I guess," I admit reluctantly. Celia was a worthy winner of last year's Games, and will make a great mentor. But she's not really my type when it comes to her style… she thinks too much. I would have preferred Cassius as my mentor, but the others thought that he would favor me, unevening the playing ground between Drusa and I. I snort at the idea. Even though I wouldn't want to kill Minerva, I still think she would be a wiser choice for a tribute than Drusa. She's not a bad Career, per se, but she's not a victor.

After the mayor gives his usual speech, the escort for District Two steps up to the microphone. He's fairly new, a young man with rainbow-colored hair and dyed light blue skin. "Happy Hunger Games, District Two! Let's get this show on the road and start with the ladies!"

His smile is more frightening than anything. He walks over to the girl's bowl and reaches inside.

"Pumice Amber!"

"I volunteer!"

I'm not paying much attention to the voice of the girl who takes the place of the reaped girl, so I'm surprised when Rufina mounts the stage. I can't help but smirk. Stole her own sister's spotlight? That's a bold move that just might cement her worthiness as a Career.

It's not until Rufina takes the microphone that I realize how awkward this situation is. Her grandfather, the mayor, is sitting right next to where she's standing, looking at her in horror. His worst nightmare has come to life. The entire country will be focused on his daughter's illegitimate child.

The escort, oblivious to all of this, asks Rufina to introduce herself.

"Rufina Fastolf," she says, providing nothing else. She clearly didn't have anything prepared.

"Lovely!" the escort exclaims. "And now on to the boys!"

"Mars Springwing!"

The name is barely out of his mouth before I yell out proudly, "I volunteer!"

The crowd parts for me as I make my way out of the boy's section. Maximus claps me on the back encouragingly. I make sure that every step displays my confidence. When I reach the stage, I yell out to the crowd without a microphone:

"I'm Hadrian Cato, but soon you will know me as the victor of the 77th Hunger Games!"

I raise both fists into the air as the district erupts into applause.

 _Rufina Fastolf (18)- D1F_

"Rufina, why did you do that?" my mom asks me. I can tell she's trying not to seem angry or upset, her voice calm.

"I discussed it with Drusa," I explain, looking to my sister for help. She's standing beside them, biting her nails.

"We did," she says finally. "The academy made a mistake choosing me."

Drusus steps closer to her and takes her hand. I smile in their direction. "That's right. I don't know what they were thinking."

Drusa lightly slaps me on the arm, smiling back.

After exchanging more loving words, my family leaves. It occurs to me that I won't see them again until I come back as a victor.

I don't expect any more visitors, so I sit back and close my eyes, imagining what the train ride to the Capitol will be like.

I hear a loud bang and my eyes fly open.

"Maxima!" I say in shock. She's never wanted me to call her "mom".

"What were you thinking?" she snaps at me without preamble. "How dare you steal this away from a capable girl?"  
"I'm perfectly capable," I say calmly. "You said I was a mistake. I'm trying to prove you wrong."

This only infuriates her further. "That girl was promising and you just had to steal away her spotlight."

I don't want to rise to the bait, so I simply respond, "I'm promising, too. You'll see."

 **Hi everyone! I know I said I would post two reapings today but today was a little busier than I expected and I went a little ham with this chapter. Sorry.**

 **All of the comments on the last chapter are really encouraging! I spend a lot of time and effort writing these so it means a lot. I'm having a lot of fun so far. I hope everyone enjoys the chapter!**


	5. District 3 Reaping

_Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F_

I blow the dust off of the small object, wiping over it for my thumb. It glints in the hot sun. I stare at my reflection in the shining surface. A silver coin.

"Tesla! Where are you?" Nora calls from the stoop of the house. I ignore her and stand up, wiping the coin on my shirt. I recognize it as an old piece of currency that's no longer in circulation. It must have gotten trampled into the dirt over many many years. I wonder when the last time the coin was held by someone.

"What is that?" I feel Nora looking over my shoulder.

I sigh and turn to look at her. "It's a coin."

Nora takes the coin and smiles at her reflection. "It's pretty. I've never seen this one before."

"It's an old coin," I say coldly, hoping she'll leave me alone for a little while. I would like some time to myself before the Reaping to compose myself.

"An old coin?" Nora's eyes grow as wide as the trinket itself. "Tesla, do you know what that means?"  
"Someone lost their money a long time ago?"

"No! It means the odds are in your favor!"

"I think if the odds were in my favor I would have found one that's actually worth something."

Nora pouts irritatingly. I scan her outfit, which is a little more decorative than usual. Her pink dress used to belong to our mother, and her pretty white shoes are new for this year's Reaping. I feel trepidation at the thought of dressing up. I know my dress won't be as pretty and delicate as Nora's, though I don't really mind it. It's just annoying to be reminded of how much our mother favors her.

"Give it back," I order. Nora silently places the coin back in my outstretched hand. I don't look back as I head inside the house. We live on the nicer side of town due to my dad's job as a financial advisor to the mayor. Our house is one of the biggest in the entire district, with three bedrooms and two full bathrooms. My dad is washing dishes in the large kitchen. He smiles at me as I walked in. "Hey, Tes. Are you going to get ready?"

I nod wordlessly and continue walking. My father always knows when I need time to myself, unlike Nora. I sigh as I close the door of my room behind me and flop onto the bed. I examine the coin for a little while before getting up and checking my closet for some appropriate clothes to wear to the Reaping. I have a white dress that might work. It's probably the one that I wore last year, but I don't remember. I never pay much attention to things like this.

Unlike Nora, I don't have any fancy jewelry from our mother, so I decide to go without. Asking Nora to borrow things is always embarrassing.

I know that even though Nora and I are twins and look quite a bit alike, Mom has always preferred her. Back when she still lived with us years ago, we would fight for her attention, but nowadays I just don't have the energy. She remarried several years ago and has a new family now that I'm clearly not welcome in. It would be bearable if she didn't ignore Nora the same way she does to me.

I change into the dress and slip the coin into my pocket so that Nora won't get a hold of it. I know luck doesn't exist and is the stupid person's explanation for things, but Nora seems to have had luck on her side when she was born with an emotional disposition and a love for "normal" things. The odds are just in her favor, I guess.

I shake my head in order to get rid of these thoughts. It's not the time to start getting mopey. I compose my face into my usual calm mask and head downstairs. Dad is finished with the dishes and is waiting with Nora in the living room.

"Tesla," Nora says quietly, standing up and floating over to me daintily. "I'm sorry if I upset you earlier. Do you want to borrow my necklace?"

She holds out a silver locket in my palm of her hand. I stare down at it, then back up at her hopeful face. I shake my head slowly. "No thank you. Let's get to the Reaping."

 _Pixel Mackaby (15)- D3M_

Today is one of the few days that I have off from the factory and school, so I should be enjoying my morning. Instead I'm sitting in my room, alone, panicking. I've taken out two tesserae before when times were tough. That means that along with my 4 regular slips, I have 6 slips with my name written on it in that glass bowl. Logically, I know those still aren't terrible odds, but I can't get it out of my mind.

I hear my family puttering around in the other room. Our small apartment is not unlike most in District 3, with not a lot of space and very thin walls. This means I can hear everything my sisters are saying in the kitchen. For Vyra, this is her last year, and bound to be both nerve wracking and relieving. At least, I hear that relief is what other people feel after danger has passed. For me, it never seems to pass. Not ever.

I'm supposed to be getting ready for the Reaping, but paranoia has paralyzed me in my bed. I would never leave it if I could.

I hear Hugh laughing as he runs up and down the hallway. The door to our room opens and he peeks inside. He's too small to understand why everyone is acting so strange today.

"Pixie?" he asks me. My name is still difficult for him to pronounce. "Why are you in bed?"

"I'm getting ready," I say quietly.

"Vyra and Vinnie say we should leave soon. Are you coming?"

...

I meet up with Lonny outside of the square, before we have to prick our fingers. Panic is starting to rise up in my throat, almost choking me. I'm not necessarily afraid of blood, but the sight on Reaping day always reminds me of what will happen if I'm reaped.

"Are you feeling okay?" is the first thing Lonny asks me.

I shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. "Fine."

Lonny doesn't seem convinced and stays at my side while our blood is taken. I know there are other people she could be with at this time, but she chooses to stay with me, which I'm grateful for. Like most people, Lonny has a lot of friends. I consider her my best friend but I'm sure she doesn't think of me that way. I'm sure she only hangs out with me because she feels sorry for me; and quite honestly, who wouldn't?

She has to leave my side when we enter the square, separated into our respective gender sections. I hate the feeling of being surrounded by people, especially people my own age who know who I am and so know that I hate being around them…

The mayor steps up to give his annual speech and I suddenly feel like all the air around me has vanished. As I struggle to breathe, the video about the history of the Hunger Games looms over us, fortelling my death and destruction that will either happen from asphyxiation right now in this square, or in a week in the arena. I just know I'm going to be picked. I just know it, I just know it, I just know it…

District Three has had the same escort for every one of my reapings, and her face has become synonymous with all-consuming fear. I've gotten used to dealing with fear over the course of my life, but Reaping day brings with it a whole new breed of fear that I can never shake away no matter how hard I try.

"Let's pick the girls first!" the escort chirps, and I find myself wishing she would just do the boy's and get it over with.

I don't have time to worry for my sisters or Lonny before the name is cheerfully read off for all of Panem to hear.

"Tesla Sherman!"  
I don't recognize the name, not that I know many people in the district anyway. She walks stiffly out of the sixteen-year old's section, her black hair tied up loosely. When she turns to face the crowd, I don't see anything in her eyes. I can relate to not experiencing anger or sadness or whatever else someone might feel, but there's no fear either. My breath, which has continued to come quickly for a while now, starts to slow down.

"And now for the boys!"

A jolt of panic shocks me, but I tamp it down and try to remain level-headed. Even if I do get picked, I won't show fear, I won't. I won't get picked, I won't get picked.

"Pixel Mackaby!"

A vision of white flashes over my eyes as though I might pass out, but my legs are moving of their own accord. As I climb the stairs, I realize the Capitol won't want to see my terrified face on their screen; they always prefer tributes like my district partner. No fear.

Despite the fact that the entire district and Capitol are watching me right now, I try to put on a brave face for the cameras, but I can still feel myself blinking in shock as I stare into the crowd, nervously pushing my glasses up farther on my face.

"Wonderful!" the escort says shrilly, touching my shoulder. I'm too terrified to even mind. Tesla and I shake hands, and I'm amazed at her expressionless face when she looks at me.

Suddenly I'm in the Justice Building and I don't know how I got there.

The door opens and my family pours in, most of them already in tears. Vyra and Vinnie hug me tightly, while Quibb desperately tries not to cry. He's just old enough to know that the Games mean certain death, but he's always wanted to be a big strong man. Hugh, on the other hand, is crying just because everyone else is, with no idea that I'm going away.

I take him into my arms as my parents try to comfort my other siblings. "I love you, Hugh, and I'll see you soon. Don't be afraid, okay?"

He nods tearfully.

After the door shuts behind them, I bring my knees to my chest and try not to cry. The Capitolites won't sponsor me if they think I'm weak.

I'm surprised when the door opens again, revealing Lonny. She comes to sit by me on the velvet couch, not saying anything for a few minutes. It hits me just how much I appreciate Lonny. She's been my loyal friend through all these years, even though I know she doesn't understand me fully.

"Here," she says quietly, taking off her bracelet and handing it to me. It takes me a second to realize why; I can take one piece of home with me to the Capitol. I weigh the metal bangle in my hand.

"Thank you."

We don't say much after that, but it's nice spending time with her in the usual way. When the Peacekeepers come for her, I blink away my tears and slip on the bracelet.

 _Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F_

"Stop crying, Nora," I tell her sternly. "Seriously, don't."

Nora looks at me with an incredulous expression, still obvious through her tears. "Tesla, do you realize what's happening?!"

"Yes, I realize," I say calmly. "It's already happened; there's no use crying about it."

"Tesla, please just try to win," Nora continues sobbing. I guess she didn't bother to listen to me, as usual.

"Tesla."

I look up to see my father looking at me intensely, tears also budding in his eyes. "You are good at thinking through things. Think this through. You're sixteen. That's plenty old enough to win, and you're smart and a quick learner. You have good chances. Please try to win, Tes."

I smile up at him. "I'll try, Dad."

Not long after that, the Peacekeepers come to take them away. They both cry out as the door shuts behind them. I sigh once they're gone, wondering if my mother will come to see me.

I'm not surprised when she doesn't.

As the Peacekeepers come to escort me out of the building, I realize I still have the silver coin in my pocket. I take it out and stare at it curiously. It's as good a token as any.

 **Hey everyone! I just wanted to let you guys know that I've started to keep score of the sponsor points on my profile, so you can always see how many you have. I'll see you in District Four!**


	6. District 4 Reaping

_Andrew "Drew" de Luce (18)- D4M_

The dawn is the most beautiful when looked at over the sea. The colors of the sky can't really be observed fully without the dark ocean as the backdrop, allowing you to capture them perfectly. The salty air hits my face and I close my eyes. This is what heaven feels like, certainly. The darkness is peaceful out here, with the scent of salt and feeling of the boat rocking underneath me, the wet spray on my eyelids.

My parents will be up soon, and wondering where I am. One look outside will tell them, but I should still get back soon. I just wanted to come out here to see witness the beginning of this day, sure to be one of the greatest days of my life. And I would be lying if I said that I won't miss this place while I'm gone. I've practically grown up on the sea, testing my father boats and learning to swim. I can hear his voice now: "Swimming is the best sport of all of them. Think of a muscle that you don't use while swimming."

I have to say he was right. Even when the trainers thought I was a lost cause, my family has always been there for me.

After I bring the boat back to our dock, I take one last look at the ocean and head inside. It's crazy to think this might be the last time I'll ever see the waves and the seagulls, but I know that's not true. I've always been the most determined trainee at the Academy, even after the whole vision fiasco.

"Andrew!" my mother greets me as I enter the house. My sister jumps up from her armchair and engulfs me in a hug. I chuckle softly and wrap my arms around her. I take a peek at the object she's holding and see its a magazine from the Capitol. A ballerina is featured on the front, dressed in pale pink with a delicate tiara on her head, the design alluding to the victor's crown. I realize it's Celia Winterbourne, last year's victor.

"I'll say hi Celia for you if I can," I say, pulling away to raise an eyebrow at her.

"There will be plenty of time for that after you win," she says dryly. "Besides, she's not a real ballerina. Her team is using dance as her talent just for show. Look, her feet are all wrong!"

Fiona points vigorously to Celia's pose on the cover. She's always wanted to be a renowned dancer. After I win, I'll be able to bring her to the Capitol to see all kinds of performances and get her real Capitolite lessons.

"Well, then that's what I'll tell her," I say, not necessarily surprised that Fiona feels comfortable criticizing a victor's pointe. She gives me critiques on my fighting all the time, even though she's never trained a day in her life.

"We'll be heading down soon," our mother informs us. "Cadia will be meeting us there."

My brother Cadia has made quite a living as a fisherman, preferring to utilize the boats instead of designing and building them."Alright, I'll go get ready."

As I walk through the kitchen, I accidently bump into one of the stools at the counter. I stop and take some deep breaths. Sometimes my depth perception is a little off when I'm excited, but I've learned to control it in a combat context. But I still bump into things every now and then when my guard is down.

"Are you alright, Drew?" Fiona asks.

"Yes, I'm fine," I say stiffly, continuing up the stairs.

After changing into my freshly washed Reaping clothes, I take a moment to stare at myself in the mirror. My right eye is the same blue color as my family, piercing and captivating.

My left eye is a different story. The color has changed since the cataract surgery, making it a faded green that was once blue. It stares directly into the mirror, but there is no life in it. I sigh and fix my hair in the mirror, ignoring my sightless left eye. I suppose I will need to get used to having lots of attention devoted to it, as I'm sure the Capitol will be fascinated by me. The Academy chose a half-blind guy to represent their district? That's right, and when they see me in the arena, they will realize why.

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (18)- D4F_

"Put your shoes on and let's hurry up," My mother says as she pulls my hair up into a tight ponytail. I wince in pain, but I know better than to ask her to be more careful.

"Are we almost finished?" my dad asks from outside my bedroom.

"One more minute!" My mom shouts back. Tensions are running high for everyone today. It's taken nearly an hour to prepare me for the Reaping, like a freshly caught fish that needs to be cleaned, skinned, sliced, and decorated artfully for the plate. I shudder.

Maybe I just have blood on the brain. Last night, we had rewatched the abridged version of my brother's Games. We had skipped through most of the parts that didn't involve him, so it had only taken an hour and a half or so. It had been pointless anyway, I knew the footage by heart. Nothing will ever stick in my mind like the first time I watched him decapitate the boy from 5; his first human kill. Unfortunately, the same thing happened to him a week later when the girl from 8 had taken off his own head.

Everyone in the district said that it was a fluke; the girl had gotten lucky for most of the Games by hiding from the other tributes, whereas Marcus had bravely been fighting others the entire time. He was already wounded, which only made her chances of winning their final battle easier.

My parents thought differently.

"Look at how he jumps away from the sword here," I remember my father telling me last night. Marcus' battle with the boy from One had been intense, ending in his victory but also ultimately sealing his fate with a stab wound to the thigh. "He's letting fear control him; making him sloppy. Stay controlled in your movements. Only a slight jerk away would have sufficed to avoid that swing. Don't use up all your energy dodging the enemy."

"I know, Dad," I had said tiredly. I had heard it all before. When we watched Marcus have his head taken off, my father snorted and shook his head disapprovingly. "What a waste…"

"Sloppy" was the word they always used to describe Marcus. To me, he was my brother.

I guess you couldn't expect anything else from two victors. The Capitol loved victor's children, and my parents were feeding us right to them.

Sometimes I'm glad I don't have anymore siblings, or else they would suffer the same fate Marcus did. The same one I might suffer.

"Alright, we're ready," Mom whispers into my ear. She grabs my shoulders and turns me to the body mirror in my room. She smiles at our reflections and rubs my shoulders comfortingly. "I love you, Nikki. You're going to make us so proud. Now let's get going before your father has an aneurysm."

…

The Reapings used to be a fun time for me. I would watch on with Marcus and my parents behind the rope, clapping when the brave Careers volunteered to win glory for their district. Then we would go home and spar in the backyard with play weapons, imagining we were them. We would buy all the merchandise that my parents ordered from the Capitol and wave for the cameras when they came to interview former victors if someone from District 4 won. Those were the best Games, the times when we won.

The other times were hard to watch. I would be dressed like the female tribute for her interview when we watched the Games, refusing to take it off except for sleeping… or when she died. Pretty soon, the death of the girls became normal and routine. It wasn't until Marcus died that I realized what the Games were really about; not glory or the pretty outfits, but death.

The square is decorated the same way every year, bringing up all these painful memories. The buildings are sporting banners with "Happy Hunger Games!" written in bright gold script on a blood-red background. The chatter from the crowd is bouncing off the walls, especially that of the victors on the stage. They know that I will be volunteering this year. The child of two victors is sure to bring in tons of sponsors. Not to mention my partner, Drew, is a beast as well. They have a lot to be excited about.

My mom leaves me with a kiss on the cheek, my father with a pat on the shoulder. I'll see them again soon, but our meeting in the Justice Building will be our last in a long time. Apparently its against the Academy's rules for a family member to mentor another tribute.

As I'm getting my finger pricked, I feel an unwelcome presence behind me. I bristle and turn to face my worst nightmare. Dareon.

"What?" I growl, snatching my hand away from the woman taking my blood as soon as she's finished.

Dareon is wearing his signature shit-eating smirk. "I just wanted to wish you a happy Hunger Games. I'll be thinking of you while you're gone. You're going to look so hot covered with all that blood…"

"Romantic," I say, turning away and immediately heading into the eighteen-year old's section. Thankfully, Dareon can't follow me here. He's the only person I know aside from my parents who willingly talks to me, even though I snap at him every time. It's clear the girls my age have already learned their lesson, stepping away from me almost imperceptibly. They know I'm not a force to be reckoned with.

The Reapings start in the usual manner, and I find myself wondering what I did so wrong in a past life to lead my to this moment. Forced to kill others because my parents want me to… what kind of sick creator would put me in this situation?

When the reaped girl's name is called, I step forward immediately and shout, "I volunteer as tribute!"

The escort is utterly delighted, as if this wasn't expected. She lightly places a hand on my back once I've climbed the stairs to look out over the square. In the distance, I can see the ocean. Neverending, full of life and beauty. And the fisherman here have no problem hooking them and reeling them in for their own enjoyment.

"What's your name, dear?" the escort asks me sweetly.

"Nicolette Anderson," I say, trying to inflect some of the excitement I used to have for the Games into my voice.

 _Andrew "Drew" de Luce (18)- D4M_

I spend most of the Reaping fuming because Fiona hid the token I was going to take with me into the arena. I swear, I love my sister, but sometimes I wish I could just get away for a few weeks. I'm finally getting a well-deserved vacation.

Nikki is on stage soon enough, looking as distant and cold as ever. She's a good competitor, but having victors as parents, as awesome as it would be, can't ensure a victory. It sure didn't for her brother.

As soon as our escort reads the name of the boy from the tiny slip, I shout, "I volunteer!" as loud as I can.

Everyone clears the way for me so that I have a straight path to the stage. I smirk at the crowd when I reach the microphone, confidently giving my name to the Capitol. It will soon be all over their magazines just like Celia; they should learn it early.

"My name's Andrew de Luce. Soon to be victor of the 77th Hunger Games!"

The square applauds me. Their faces are mostly proud and optimistic. It's nice to know that my blind eye, despite causing problems at the Academy at first, has since been accepted. Everyone knows how capable I am.

"How wonderful!" the escort squeals. "Now, please shake hands."

Nikki and I do as we're told. She doesn't meet me eyes, instead staring at the ground. Everything after that is somewhat of a blur. A few minutes later, I'm sitting in the back of the Justice Building, waiting for my family.

Gregory is the first one to peek through the door. At only fourteen, his training for the Games is still in its preliminary stages, but he's coming along nicely. One day, we'll be a family of victors. Following him is the rest of my family.

"Fight the best you can, but only when you have to," Cadia advises me seriously. "Don't break the alliance early."

"I won't," I say, rolling my eyes. "I'm not an idiot."

"I know that, but you have to keep a good head on your shoulders. Literally."

We hug, and Fiona comes next. She looks a little upset, and I soon realize why.

"I'm sorry I stole your ring. I just wanted you to take this instead." She hands me a small moose plushie that I recognize from the store down the street. We used to play with stuffed toys like this when we were younger. Something softens within me and I take it gently, smiling.

"Thank you, Fiona."

She smiles back and leans forward to hug me tightly, but I tickle her instead and she shrieks. Maybe I will miss her a little bit while I'm gone. I comfort myself with the thought that this isn't the last time I'll see her laugh.

My parents give me more advice about the Games, but also about how to nab some sponsors. The Capitolites will likely know the company they work for and might even own some of their luxury boats. It's not a bad idea to bring it up in my interview.

I make Gregory promise me he'll stay training while I'm gone, though he'll want to stay inside and watch me on TV. I'm going to miss him as well.

"Don't forget what we look like while you're gone," Fiona tells me sarcastically before they leave, tossing me the ring I was originally going to bring into the arena with me. I'm not prepared for the throw and it hits me directly in the face, causing her to break into laughter as the door closes behind her. Sighing deeply, but not without a smile, I put the ring in my pocket, knowing I'm not going to wear it anymore. The moose will have to do.

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (18)- D4F_

My parents don't let up on the training even in the Justice Building. I'm drilled with survival tips and combat strategies until the moment they leave, when my mother seems to remember to tell me she loves me. Dad does so as well before the Peacekeepers close the door.

I sigh and put my face into my hands. Maybe this won't be so bad. I'll finally have some time away from my parents, maybe feel a connection to Marcus and what he went through. Even if I don't survive, I will be closer to him than we ever were before he died, when we were just naive children who knew nothing of the world or even our own parents.

Speaking of Marcus, I reach into my pocket and produce a gold chain. My parents hadn't wanted me to bring his old token into the Games with me, claiming it was bad luck. But I had managed to sneak it out of their bedroom, where they keep it locked away in the dresser. I clasp it around my neck, gently touching it with my fingertips. Maybe I can finally have some peace.

The door bangs open again, revealing the last person I want to see.

"Dareon!" I shout, jumping to my feet.

"Nikki," he pleads, using the sensitive-boy voice he's used on me for years. "You're going away for so long, and I'll have nothing but a flat version of you to look at on the TV. And you're anything but flat in real life… How am I supposed to live without you?"

"Get lost," I snarl, balling up my fists.

"I really just want something to remember you by…"  
That's when he leans forward to kiss me, not for the first time. But this time I've had too long of a day. Before he can grab my shoulder, I snatch his wrist with both hands and do as I've practiced for years. It makes a satisfying snapping sound, and as he howls in pain, I slam my fist into his face for good measure.

"That will give you something to remember me by," I mutter under my breath as the Peacekeepers burst inside. They look at me accusingly, but just drag Dareon out of the room. Now that I'm a tribute, that can't do anything to me.

I glance at the specks of blood on my knuckles. Not a bad start to my journey.

 **Hellooooo everyone! I'm sorry this update is so late; I was busier today than I thought I would be. I wrote this as quickly as I could so that I could upload it. So this is it for the Careers! I'm having so much fun writing this story and I hope you guys are having fun reading it.**


	7. District 5 Reaping

_Caleb Odalric (18)- D5M_

"Nina…"

I wake up to Jett licking my face, his dog-breath making me cringe.

"Ew, Jett, stop," I mutter, pushing him away. He whines sadly, something he doesn't do very often. He must have realized I was having a bad dream. A dream about what today is: the Reaping.

I hear my parents talking in hushed tones in the other room. Jett gazes at me with sad-puppy eyes that he's never grown out of. He's always been very intune with my emotions, and very protective of me. That's why he sleeps with me every night.

"Alright, let's get up, Jett," I say without my usual gusto. He notices this as well and jumps off the bed with his tail down and ears flat. I glance at the clock and realize it's late; the Reaping is only in a couple of hours. Still, I wish I could have slept more.

I throw on my usual Reaping outfit and head into the kitchen with Jett. My mother isn't dressed yet, sitting at the table. My father is in his Peacekeeper uniform, face grim and ready to go patrol the square before the ceremony starts.

"How are you, Caleb?" he asks me as soon as I enter.

"Never been better," I mutter under my breath. I don't mean to be rude to him, and he's knows it. Reaping day is just hard for us since Nina's name was called four years ago. My sister was only twelve, so young and innocent and my best friend aside from Jett. The brute from One had killed her gruesomely during the bloodbath, returning home in a small wooden box that we buried in the district cemetery.

"It's your last year," my mother says, clearly trying to hold it together. "And you've never taken tesserae. After this, you won't have anything to worry about."

"I know, Mom."

Ever since Nina's death, Mom has been terrified of me being reaped as well. It's not unheard of for family members of past tributes to compete in the Games. Whether or not the Reapings are rigged for that sort of thing is a debate even I can't pick a side on, but either way, it's still a possibility. I comfort myself by knowing that I would have an advantage over the other tributes if I was picked; I'm eighteen, and my father is a Peacekeeper. I can't say I haven't learned anything from him over the years, and he was the one that convince me to exercise regularly to stay in shape.

Jett curls up on my feet as I eat breakfast, scrambled eggs and toast. Not everyone in District 5 is capable of living as well as us. My father, though he cannot marry my mother because he is a Peacekeeper, takes good care of us.

My father leaves not soon after, my mother and I left with an hour to kill before we have to leave. We spend most of the time in silence. We used to be so close, but that's before Nina died and Mom was overcome with a sadness unlike anything I'd seen before. I'm sure she's worried about me being Reaped, and I try to convince myself that it won't happen.

Before we leave for the Reaping, my mother comes over to me and brushes my blonde hair away from my eyes, smiling at me.

"You look just like your father. You have his nose." She taps my nose affectionately.

I grin back at her, glad that she's joking around with me. "Thanks. I know you think his nose is too big."

"That's not at all what I think!" she says in mock offense.

We share a small laugh before heading out, Jett right on our heels, tail wagging and tongue hanging out.

 _Amelia Waltraud (16)- D5F_

My knee is jumping as I sit on our bench, waiting for Elanor. We agreed a long time ago not to treat the Reaping day different than any other day, so we still meet in the morning for our usual jog around District 5. The ceremony doesn't start for nearly four hours, so we still have lots of time to run and then shower and get ready for the Reaping.

The Reaping always makes me nervous, even though I know my chances of being called are slim. I've never taken our tesserae and I have only 5 slips in the entire bowl of names… Still, it's a sad thought. Though my life isn't the best, I would like to live it all the way through.

"Amelia!" I look up and smile when I see who it is. Elanor kisses my on the cheek gently when she draws near, making me blush.

"Are you ready?" I ask softly.

"Always," Elanor grins, apparently not worried at all about the Games.

We start on the usual path, jogging along the stream that runs beside the western fences. It's probably my favorite place in the district, the sounds of birds chirping and running water the most soothing thing that exists for us in Five. The rest of the place is covered in cement and tall buildings emitting smoke. Most people have to wear face masks when traveling downtown, so we avoid that area, sticking to the perimeter of the district.

We end our run at my house, where we go inside for some water and breakfast. We take turns showering, while my mother cooks for us both. Elanor comes around so often that she has her own place at the table. She always complains and says its not her job to feed her, but we insist. Both of our families are not very well-off, but we make do with what we have, and what would be the point if we couldn't share it with someone?

"Thank you, Miss Waltraud," Elanor says sweetly when we sit down. We're no both dressed in our best, which isn't much by wealthier standards, but good enough for us. It feels like we're real family having a full meal together, even if it's just course bread and coffee.

All of a sudden, there's a knock on the door. "Ziva!"

My mother pales, and I'm sure I do too, when we recognize the voice. I shouldn't have said this was a family meal.

"Hold on!" she calls back. "Why don't you girls go back to Amelia's room, huh?"

"Okay." I take my coffee and pull Elanor with me to the small bedroom off of the kitchen. It's stuffy and dark, but the smell and sight of my books comforts me momentarily.

Elanor doesn't seem confused; things like this have happened a couple of times before. I'm sure she knows we have secret, but she never tries to pry. Her cooperation in hiding from my father is much appreciated; he doesn't want anyone to know that he is related to me. If he knew that Elanor was here, he would flip, so we stay in my bedroom until I hear my mother's voice from the kitchen.

"Amelia? Will you come here for a moment?"

I set down my mug and the book Elanor and I were silently reading together and unwillingly leave my room. I make sure to shut the door behind me so that Elanor won't be seen.

My father is standing there in his white Peacekeeper uniform, his eyebrows pulled together in disapproval. I draw further into myself both physically and mentally, looking at the ground as I shuffle my feet nervously.

"Hello, Amelia," he says gruffly. "I thought I would come to see you before the Reaping."  
"Thank you." I say. I know by now not to call him Dad.

"Your chances of being picked are very slim due to what I've provided for you," he continues. "So don't worry."

I nod slowly. Of course, I know the real reason he's here, which to give my mother this month's money to stay quiet about my parentage. Born out of an affair, it would ruin my father's marriage and reputation.

"I will see you next week," he informs my mother, then hurries away. He never spends more time he than he needs to.

I look up at my Mom. She looks sad, as usual. She's told me before that she never held any true emotions for my father, but they had conceived me nonetheless. I'm my father's greatest regret, I'm sure.

I retrieve Elanor from my room, happy to see that's she's still smiling and not upset for leaving her alone. She doesn't ask any questions, just takes my hand and asks, "Should we head out?"

"As soon as Mom is ready," I answer with a smile back. It's nice to have someone to trust, someone that I can count on no matter what. Elanor and I are not exactly friends; maybe something more, but I'm fine with what we have now. I was not born out of love, but I certainly am capable of finding it.

 _Caleb Odalric (18)- D5M_

The mayor's speech is as dull and infuriating as ever. Surely the Capitol doesn't really believe that my sister, a twelve-year old girl, died for crimes committed over 70 years ago. Or worse, for "honor" and "glory".

It comes time for the escort to draw the names. As he dips his hand into the girl's ball, I wonder who will be the poor soul who will be sent off to die. It most likely won't be anyone that I know; I don't really have any friends.

"Amelia Waltraud!"

I don't recognize the name, and I barely recognize the girl who climbs the stage afterward. Her eyes are filled with tears, but she doesn't let them fall.

"And now for the boys!" the escort cries delightfully. He doesn't seem to care that the girl is close to tears, or perhaps he doesn't notice. I don't know which is worse.

The freakish man pulls out a small slip from the boy's ball and I tense up in anticipation. My left hand automatically goes to the pink friendship bracelet on my right wrist; the one that Nina had made for me before she died.

"Caleb Odalric!"

My name echoes off the walls of District Five. For a moment I feel like the world has stopped spinning. I couldn't have been called. The odds were in my favor!

I feel myself start to walk up to the stage. Everyone thought the odds were in Nina's favor too, though, I think bitterly.

"And here are your tributes for District Five!" the escort announces cheerfully. "Shake hands, you too."

I put my hand out, but the girl waits a second before doing as she's told. Maybe she's still shocked about what has happened. I look up and see she's staring at me with terror, like I will be the one to kill her in the arena.

Two Peacekeepers grab us by the shoulders and steer us to the Justice Building. We don't stop until we reach a hallway with two ornate doors. Opposite them is a large painting of the birth of Panem, thirteen districts and a shining Capitol rising out of the ashes of a destroyed world. District 5 is represented by a man wearing a hazmat suit, handing the Capitol a lit lightbulb. It has me wildly wondering what my outfit for the Tribute Parade will be.

The Peacekeeper drags me into one of the rooms, with is also decorated lavishly. I've been to the Justice Building before for my father's promotion ceremonies, but this time, the luxury feels foreign and unfeeling, not welcome and inviting.

The door opens again and my parents and Jett come bursting in the door. Mom is already crying hard, wrapping her arms around my neck. Dad's face is set with grief. I realize that if I die, my pain will end, but my parents will have lost two children.

Even Jett is upset, jumping onto the velvet couch with me and whining as he buries his long nose into my armpit. I scoop him into my arms and scratch between his eyes, just where he likes it.

"I'm sorry, Jett," I whisper to him. "I have to leave."

He never recovered after Nina left; laying in her bed and crying for months after she died.

"I'll be back," I tell him. "I'm going to come back, you'll see."

 _Amelia Waltraud (16)- D5F_

After my mother's visit, I almost hope that Elanor won't come. Goodbyes are too hard, especially when I know it will likely be forever. Maybe we can just remember each other the way we were this morning, when everything was fine and I had a whole future ahead of me.

But of course she comes, tears and all.

"I brought something for you," she whispers, as if someone might hear. She slips a thin silver chain around my neck. There's a charm hanging from it; half of a heart. Elanor pulls out an identical necklace from her pocket and clasps it around her own neck.

"I was going to give it to you later today," she says softly. "At your house. But this works too."

I laugh tearfully and pull her in for a hug. We're never going to see each other again, so I might as well tell her how I feel. I suck in a deep breath and begin to form my sentence just as the Peacekeepers burst in to take her away.

"Elanor!" I call out.

"Amelia-"

The door shuts behind them. I stare at the charm around my neck and dread starts to fill the pit of my stomach. The odds were definitely not in my favor today.

I know my father won't visit me. He'd be too afraid of connecting himself to me. He might even be glad that his biggest mistake will be erased from the face of the earth.

Besides, he's probably to busy visiting his other child who will be competing in the Games.

 **Hey guys! Here's District 5. I hope everyone had a great day and will have a great week!**


	8. District 6 Reaping

_Antonia "Attie" Montgomery (17)- D6F_

It's the morning of the Reapings, which means Otto and I have been up since dawn. We knew exactly where to hit first; the homes of families who have had someone die in the Games, then Victor Village itself, and now the black market on the far northern side of the district. Everyone there knows us; giving us distrustful looks, except for those that motion for us to come over, eagerly handing over their money. Living as a runner for morphling, everyone in the district either hates you or loves you.

After making our usual rounds, we buy some oatmeal at the market and wait in the corner in case anyone decides to approach us. District Six's black market is located in an abandoned train station tunnel that is, ironically, partly underground and always filled with people. Tensions always run especially high on Reaping day, and some people may need something to soothe their nerves. After a half hour or so, a young man nervously walks up to us and asks for a week's supply. For some people, the nerves persist well into the Games themselves. Nobody in District Six likes to watch our lucky tributes get slaughtered, despite the banners hanging around the commercial sect that read "Happy Hunger Games!"

"We should head back soon," Otto tells me as he hands the kid his morphling. I count the money we've made today. It's not bad; certainly enough to buy our meals for the rest of the week; and there will be more orders coming as the Games go on. This really is the happiest time of the year for us.

"Alright, let's go."

…

My family's apartment is on the top floor, and there isn't an elevator in our building. As such, I avoid it most of the time, preferring to spend my time our of the household and out in the world with Otto and Davina. At least that's the reason I tell my family for why I'm gone for so long. My mother knows how I make my money, but I don't like telling her I don't want to be around her. And Cyprian… I want to preserve his innocence for as long as I can. I know this world will take it soon enough.

My mother is high when reach the apartment. I expected this; our relationship has become strained over the years, but she still fears Cyprian's safety. This will be his first eligible year.

I open the door to the room we share to find him already dressed and ready for the Reaping.

"You look handsome, little man," Otto says with a smile. Cyprian smiles and comes to give us a three-way hug. I allow myself to feel some affection for a moment. Cyprian is the only person I allow myself to feel too much for. Someone has to take care of him.

Cyprian's hair is the same bright ginger as mine, freckles dotting along his nose. "I'll see you after the ceremony," I tell him. "You don't have anything to worry about."

"I know, Attie," he says with a hint of the impatient sarcasm I've imposed upon him over the years.

Otto takes him downstairs to the Reaping while I try to round him up mother. It takes a few tries to wake her up and even longer to get her dressed, and I would rather just leave her here for the Peacekeepers to deal with. But the morphling in her blood would raise suspicions about where we get our money, not to mention that Cyprian would be taken away. I'm not old enough to take custody, and Davina can hardly handle herself, much less a sibling.

So, I prop her against my shoulder and take her down to the square with me. Her sweaty forehead and bloodshot eyes are a telltale sign of morphling, but there will be so many people with the same appearance today that the Peacekeepers likely won't do anything about it. Besides, they have bigger things to be worrying about today.

 _Jason Sparks (18)- D6M_

I finish my patrol around the district early, so I stop by Grayson and Olivia's. Both of them will be in the Reaping this year as well, the final year for Grayson and I. Our graduation from the Peacekeeper academy will commence in a couple of months, and we will officially be adults.

I'm still in my uniform when I stroll around the apartment complexes, which earns me some distrustful glances. But as soon as they see who I am, their gazes soften, some even waving at me. I wave back and continue on my path to my friends' apartment.

Olivia coming out the front door when I arrive, dressed in a red dress with her hair pulled into a bun.

"Hey, Jason!" she calls to me with a grin. "Grayson is taking along time, but he'll be out soon."

"Good. There are quite a few places I want to stop at before the Reaping."

When Grayson comes out, he's dressed in a nice black shirt and pants. I realize I'm likely going to have to attend the Reaping in my uniform, not that it really matters.

"Let's go!" Olivia says cheerfully.

We stop by the Tunnel first. The tension is palpable in the air, everyone desperate to distract themselves from the events that will take place later today. The presence of my white uniform makes everything more stifling, but luckily most people know that I'm not here to harm anyone.

A lot of the Care Home kids hang around the entrance to the Market, playing games and occasionally begging for food. When they see us approaching, a couple of them run toward us.

"One at a time now," I say gruffly, handing each child a piece of bread and an apple to each of them. The apples especially cost me a fortune, but it's worth it to see the smiles on their faces. Grayson hands them each a nice shirt to wear at the Reaping if they don't already have one.

After that, it's the usual rounds in the poorer parts of the district before heading to the square. Being with the kids always makes me introspective, and I spend most of the walk there wondering what my life would be like if my father wasn't a Peacekeeper. Many of the people who live here are worse-off just because they were born to the wrong kind of family. I recall the couple of morphling runners hanging around the Tunnel. I wonder what they could have accomplished if they had been given any encouragement or positive role models, or even just enough food to eat. And soon they will be having children as well, repeating the pattern endlessly.

Be kind, be nice to everyone, and be thankful for what you have, because no matter how bad you have it, someone out there has it worse.

They're my mother's words, one of the reasons I decided to follow my father's footsteps and become a Peacekeeper; to protect the children of the district. Though she's not here anymore, I try to honor her in any way that I can… and try not to think about how I'm doing so by supporting the people who killed her.

I stand out in the square due to my uniform; and some people who don't know me look confused as to why a Peacekeeper is among the eligible children instead of watching from the perimeter. The Peacekeepers themselves give Grayson and I respectful nods as we take our places in the eighteen-year old's section.

The introduction to the Reaping takes too long, and I find myself wishing they would just get it over with already. When the escort finally reaches into the girl's ball, I have a few seconds to pray for Olivia's safety before the name is read.

"Antonia Montgomery!"

I breathe a sigh of relief; it's not someone I know. Still, it's a shame one of our citizens will have to kill or be killed just because they were born here and not in the Capitol.

The reaped girl's expression is completely blank, giving her eyes a strange dead look. I wonder if she's in shock. I stare at her for another moment and realize I do recognize her. She's the morphling runner who's always hanging around the Tunnel! Despite not approving of the morphling market, I feel bad for her. Her family probably won't have a way to eat if she dies and isn't able to provide for them.

"Now for the boys!" giggles our escort, a freakish woman who has been dressed to look like the sky, her fingernails long and twisted, her lips and hair completely blue.

"Jason Sparks!"

My breath catches, feeling my feet start to move towards the podium. I feel Grayson's hand on my back, like he's trying to get me to stay. The Peacekeepers at the stairs give me grim looks, and I can tell they're upset. I was always eager to learn and excelled in my training, and now they have lost me, whether I die or not.

As I turn to the cameras, I give a small wave. If I want to win, I should start earning the Capitol's favor now.

Antonia and I shake hands, her grip terrifying dry despite my hands sweating profusely. We're taken back into the Justice Building, where I've been many times for my training. I realize this might be the last time I'll ever see it.

Grayson and Olivia come first, both of them close to tears.

"Promise you'll try to win, Jason," Grayson says. "You have actual combat training and you're strong. You could join the Careers."

I can't believe Grayson of all people is telling me to join the Careers, those foul people that support the Games by killing innocent children. But I know he's probably just grasping at any straw he can.

"I'll do my best," I promise.

After them comes my father.

I knew he would come, but I still haven't decided on what to say. We don't speak often, not since my mother's death.

"Jason," he begins, clearing his throat. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry about everything."

"Sorry about what exactly?" I ask without looking at him, tone icy.

His voice grows croakier as he continues, "About your mother. You know I had to, or else they would have taken you away from me. Peacekeepers aren't supposed to have children, and they might have even killed you if the higher ups in the Capitol found out."

"They don't enforce that kind of thing anymore, you said so yourself."

"They would have if I hadn't have…"

"If you hadn't have killed her," I say, looking straight at him now.

"Yes," he says, sounding like he might cry. "I know you might not understand but I did it

for you, son. They asked me specifically do it to prove my loyalty, and if I hadn't have carried out the death sentence, then you both would have been taken away from me. Don't you understand that?"

The pain of that day flashes before my eyes; my own father killing my mother on order of the Head Peacekeeper, over some flowers. All she had wanted was to pick some flowers for her shop outside the district fences, but the endeavor ended in her death.

"Here, son." Dad gives me a watch, the one he always wears with the three of us smiling

behind the glass. I take it and gaze into my mother's face. The picture was taken years before her death, but she's exactly as I remember her.

Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if I hadn't been born at all.

 _Antonia "Attie" Montgomery (17)- D6F_

The room is filled with noise, the crying of Cyprian and my mother, Davina trying to talk to me over it.

"Attie, you have to try." Her eyes are bloodshot just like Mom's, but I can tell she's not high right now. She must have gathered enough willpower to resist in case this happened. "I can't take care of Cyprian by myself, you have to come back."

Such a stark confession from her is rare nowadays. She never would have admitted that before, though it's quite obvious. Bouncing from place to place, hooked on morphling, she's not exactly a great big sister to rely on.

"I guess I'll just have to win, then," I say, playing with the pocketwatch that Cyprian had tearfully handed to me.

Otto comes next, his eyes filled with tears. Unlike me, he's always full of emotions that just can't contain themselves.

My last visit with Cyprian was difficult to get through, but now that he's here, I know Otto's will be impossible. When I had no one else, and I could always count on him to watch my back. He's the only person I truly feel comfortable around.

"I'm going to miss you," is all I can say, despite the fact that he's crying in front of me. It's the only thing that I can manage.

"You're the smartest person I've ever met, Attie," he tells me, always upstaging me with the emotional stuff. "And I know you. You can do this. You're… capable."

I know what that means. While Otto sometimes struggles with the morality of living life the way we do, I've never once batted an eye at it. People do what they need to to survive. There's no shame in that.

And I've survived everything life has thrown at me so far.

Hey guys! I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. The Reapings are halfway done! Whoo-hoo! Thanks for reading!


	9. District 7 Reaping

Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M

"Seb, it's time to wake up."

There's a kiss on my forehead. I reach out next to me for Alexis, but she's already up. I groan and roll up into a sitting position. I glance around the apartment, ruffling my hair. The window is open, letting in the crisp morning air. Usually the sounds of chainsaws and falling trees accompany the scent of pine and soil, but today everything is suspiciously quiet. It reminds me of what today is. The Reaping.

Alexis comes out of the bathroom, freshly dressed. I can hear Benji laughing in the other room with his parents. I never thought I would live with my girlfriend's family, but after moving in almost two years ago, I have to say this is the happiest I've been in years.

"You really do have to get up, Seb," Alexis tells me in amusement. "The ceremony is in two hours."

"I know, I know…"

This is Alexis' and my last eligible year. At least we don't have to go to work today, and after this we won't have to worry about it anymore.

Benji wanders into the room, peeking around Alexis' dress.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"I just wanted to see what Seb was wearing," he says quietly. Last year had been his first Reaping, and he had wanted to dress just like me for luck.

"Alright, let me show you what your sister picked out for me," I say, slipping out of bed. My Reaping outfit is laid out on the chair beside me, a simple black button up shirt and my work pants. The pants are a little dirty, but no one will really notice in District Seven. Every pair of pants here end up becoming work pants eventually.

"What do you think?" I ask him, smoothing out the shirt.

"It's the same as last year!" he exclaims.

"Wow, really?" I say sarcastically. He knows that I'm joking and hits my lightly on the arm. As he runs out of the room, Alexis raises her eyebrow at me.

"I didn't say anything mean," I huff, starting to change out of my nightclothes. She smiles at me as I turn away.

...

This will be my second Games since what happened. All the blood and violence makes everything worse than usual and I tried to avoid watching as much as I could last year, but the Games are hard to ignore. The large screens in the square are constantly running during the season, and the Peacekeepers bring us updates while we're working in the forest. They're near impossible to escape.

The walk to the Reaping is torture. I can't wait until the ceremony is over and we can celebrate at Alexis' family's house. Last year we had several people over and a frosted cake that her parents had saved for for weeks.

Alexis and I take Benji to get our fingers pricked, and I help usher him to the thirteen-year old's section. He waves over at me when we've both taken our places, dressed in almost identical outfits. Benji's never had a big brother, so I've kind of taken on the role. It's nice to have a little brother as well. Before, I only had my parents, and that relationship was strained to say the least. I put it out of my mind and try to focus on the party later. Not the death that will be coming in the next weeks, or my old family, but the good times with my new family.

Willow Whitebeam (17)- D7F

Juniper and I laugh along with the gamblers as the District Seven escort steps up to the stage, a hilarious looking woman with bright blue hair and neon lights all over her outfit. We haven't checked in yet, instead spending all the time we can with the gamblers before the ceremony. They're terrible people, but joking around with them isn't too difficult, up until Juniper and I steal their wallets.

It's less out of necessity, or as a punishment for betting on the lives and deaths of children, and more for the thrill. With the large crowd and Peacekeepers everywhere, it makes the challenge that much more thrilling.

While Juniper distracts a man in his forties or fifties, I pretend to be watching the movement on stage, and slip his wallet out of his pocket and into mine. Unlike most of the girls around the square, Juniper and I wear trousers, like always. We learned a long time ago there's not many places to hide stolen goods in a skirt.

Today's already been a fruitful day; we hit the food market and even stolen a couple of watches right off the wrists of some wealthier men who own the lumber yards. It's amazing what some flirting and a sidekick can get you. We then stopped by the Shopkeeper to sell our haul. The Shopkeeper goes by no other name around the district, and very few know who he is, but Juniper and I have been working or him for almost four years. The best three years of our life, actually.

"Well, we should get going, right Willow?" Juniper smiles at me, motioning to the check-in area.

"You're right," I nod. Now that we've given the Shopkeeper his fair share, we can keep our earnings from these gamblers for ourselves. Someone's odds were just not in their favor today.

Once we're out of earshot of the men, we start laughing to ourselves and whispering about what we've stolen. We'll be able to fully count it later, when we're back at our apartment. The place is covered in mold and there's only one bedroom, but we earned it all on our own. It's so much better than being in the Care Home, where we were stuck for most of our lives. I fiddle with the apartment key I wear around my neck, smiling to myself.

"Do you think we can buy a cake later today?" Juniper asks me as we make our way to the seventeen-year olds section.

"Why bother buying it?" I ask with a grin. Juniper throws her head back and laughs, her long blond hair blowing in the wind. She's much taller than I am, and more classically beautiful, but we never seem to have much of a problem when it comes to finessing the men and women around the district. They are captivated by my brown hair and somewhat mousy features anyway.

When we enter the roped-off area for our age group, a girl bumps into me, not bothering to even apologize. I scowl at her.

"How about an 'excuse me'?" I snap at her, feeling Juniper's hand on my arm.

"Leave it, Willow. Let's just get through this."

She's right. I forget about the girl and turn away, leaving behind her confused, frightened expression. The Reapings are long and boring and I can never stay still for so long. My mind is on all of the jewelry that's available to steal throughout the square.

The escort steps up the microphone and begins her usual Capitolite chirping. I have to hold in my laughter when she says, "Happy Hunger Games!" and the accent makes her sound like a cross between a snake and a bird.

"Let's do the girls, first, shall we?"  
I stiffen up in anticipation. I only have two people to worry about; myself and Juniper, and we haven't taken out tesserae since we were kicked out of the Care Home. But the chance is still there…

"Willow Whitebeam!"

For a moment, my heart stops, and the only thing I can hear is the wind whistling through the trees, the eyes of every lumberjack's son and daughter on me as I make my way to the stage. I pray silently that Juniper won't do anything stupid, and my wish comes true. When I meet her eyes onstage, they're filled with horror, but she isn't moving.

"And now for the boys!"

The escort reaches into the ball and retrieves a new slip. "Benjamin Lee!"

Surprisingly, there's a distressed cry coming from the girl's section immediately after the name is called. She tries to run forward but the Peacekeepers grab her and hold her back as the young boy, only thirteen, trembles as he mounts the stage.

"No!" the girl cries, desperately trying to get to the boy. "Benji, no! I volunteer!"

"Unfortunately, only someone of the same gender can volunteer," the escort says, obviously uncomfortable with what is occurring. The boy is now standing next to me, his eyes wide and terrified. "If another boy would like to volunteer for this fine young man, than that would of course be acceptable…"

"I volunteer." A firm voice is heard above the racket that the girl is making. The volunteer comes from the eighteen-year old section, with white-blond hair and striking blue eyes. When he reaches the stage, he pats the boy on the back and sends him to the girl. He runs back to her and she throws her arms around him, both of them crying.

The escort is clearly as shocked with this turn of events as much as anyone, turning to the new tribute and saying in a flustered voice, "Um, well, what is your name, young man?"

"Sebastian Cassara," he says, a mixture of obvious anger along with strange boredom in his voice. He's strong, by the look of it. Probably a lumberjack.

"Well, there you have it," the escort says nervously. "Willow Whitebeam and Sebastian Cassara! Shake hands, you two."

Sebastian shakes my hand, his expression murderous. I know he will be a force to be reckoned with in the arena, and maybe a possible ally. If I'm truly going into the Hunger Games, I'll need to start thinking about these things.

Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M

Alexis' family are about as distraught as you would expect them to be. Her mother gives me a small locket that she said she was going to give to Alexis one day.

"But it belongs with you," she says with a tearful smile. Her kindness has always reminded me of my own mother. I give her a hug and try to comfort Benji.

"This is my fault!" he cries. "Why did you volunteer?"

"I had to," I tell him. "That's what brothers are for, alright?"

He nods and buries his face into my chest. I meet Alexis' eyes over his head. Her expression is grim, but she knows I did the right thing. Even if I die, she'll be grateful that I saved her brother. That's just the way life is. Save one life by taking another. I learned that a long time ago.

"You have a good chance of winning," Alexis tells me, her voice choked up. "You're tough and strong and… you have experience."

I wish she wouldn't bring that up right now, out of all things. The image of my father choking my mother to death still haunts me in my sleep.

"I'm not sure that's the same thing," I say quietly, rubbing Benji's back. She is right, though; violence is something that I might be more used to than the other tributes.

"You have to try."

She kisses me and wraps me in a hug along with her brother, possibly for the last time. When the Peacekeepers come to take them away, I hold onto her hand for as long as I can. I can't help but wonder if this is my punishment for everything that I've done. I wasn't able to help my mother, and honestly I wasn't able to help myself either. Killing my father never brought me any peace.

Hey guys! I know I didn't update yesterday and I'm sorry. I had terrible writer's block, which sucks because I love both these characters. I hope I did them justice.

The Reapings continue! I can't wait until we get to see the tributes interacting with each other! Thanks for reading!


	10. District 8 Reaping

Sock Northsilk (12)- D8F

I wake up suddenly, breath coming quickly. I gasp in air and reach out for Sir Hoot, bringing him to my chest. I have a feeling that my nightmare may have had something to do with what today is, but all I can remember are people laughing at me. I hug Sir Hoot tighter to me.

Soft morning light is peeking through the windows, illuminating my bedroom. There are several plushies strewn all over the floor, probably knocked off the bed while I was thrashing around. I stand and rearrange them into their correct places beside my pillow. The clock next to my bed says the Reaping is in three hours. I should have been up a while ago, but my parents probably let me sleep in. No matter how much I tell them not to spoil me, they never listen.

I start to put on the outfit that the servants had laid out last night. It's a pretty pick dress that looks like something a fairy might wear. I love it, but I can't help but wonder how the other girls will react to it. The mean girls at school often make fun of my childish style. They say it's because I've never experienced any hardship in my whole life, so i've never had to grow up.

But apparently now I'm old enough to fight to the death for the entertainment of adults, so I consider myself to be quite mature.

After I put on the dress, I do my hair myself, something I've only learned how to do recently. I figured I better start doing some things myself so that I could make friends. I'm not very good at it yet, but my raven hair is at least slightly curly by the time I'm finished with it. Then I head downstairs to see if my parents are awake.

The house is eerily quiet; usually the servants are here by now to clean and cook breakfast. But Mama always gives them the day off on Reaping day. I suppose it's in the spirit of the Games.

We're one of the few people in District Eight to own houses instead of living in a crowded apartment. From the large windows that look out into the street, I can see the other houses in this cul-de-sac; including the mayor's,and owners of some other factories. The walls are decorated with banners that are blowing in the morning breeze, "Happy Hunger Games!" and "May the odds be ever in your favor!" hanging over us all. Our families don't have to be worried about their children being Reaped; I've never taken out tesserae and neither have any of the mayor's children. The chance will get larger the older I get, but for now it's not a concern. At least, that's the way my parents look at it.

"Good morning, princess," Daddy says as I enter the room. He's attempting to make breakfast, something I know from experience he's not very good at. His parents own the same factories he now owns, and Mama was also born into a well-to-do family. When I grow up, I'll own the same factories.

"Good morning, Daddy," I answer with a smile. I set down Sir Hoot onto the island counter and discreetly check to see if he's burning the eggs. They seem okay for now, so I sit down at my stool and check to see if Sir Hoot needs any repairs.

It's been a long time since I've worked on him. My parents got him for me the day I was born, but I've been repairing him myself for a few years now to ensure he'll always be here for me. I learned how after going into school, when I realized I didn't have much in common with anyone. The other factory head children are much older than me, and the other kids my age hate me. I decided to try learning how to sew and make clothes in order to relate to them, but so far it hasn't made a difference. Maybe when I tell the girls at the Reaping that I made this dress myself, they will realize I'm more than just a spoiled rich girl.

Mama walks in from outside, her eyes lighting up when she sees me. "How are you, princess? I thought we'd let you sleep for a little while."

"I know," I say sullenly. "Where were you, Mama?"

"I was out buying some fruit!" She lifts up the bag of goods, which I hadn't seen before.

"Oranges?" I ask excitedly. Eight doesn't exactly have a lot of vegetation around, and fresh fruits are especially hard to come by. Mama only buys them for special occasions.

"Of course some oranges," Mama says gently. "Come have breakfast with me, Sock."

Spool Nylon (12)- D8M

The sword whistled as it cut through the air and whacked into my neck. I fell to the ground, hand grasping at my throat.

"Ouch! Don't hit me so hard!"  
Tag laughed and threw his wooden sword onto the ground. We had made them a couple of months ago from old branches around the district, using my old book of medieval tales as a reference.

"You were too slow," Tag teases me, giving me a hand to lift me up.

"Yeah right," I huffed. "I saw where your eyes were. You were aiming for my chest and you missed!"  
"Whatever. I'm tired, can we go inside?"

I study Tag's face, the one identical to my own down to the freckle. Even though I was the one knocked to the ground, he's breathing heavily, chest heaving. His asthma usually doesn't act up so easily; it must be the stress from the Reaping today. Even though we each have only one slip in the ball, the idea of being picked is terrifying.

"Alright, let's go," I say.

...

Today isn't a fun day. It's one of the rare days my family has off from work at the factory, but it's impossible to enjoy when you know the reason why. Two people will be sent to their deaths today. The thought makes me shiver. The Capitol says they fight for glory, but it doesn't seem to be the same kind of glory that the knights of the Round Table fought for in the medieval ages. In the books, there is always a goal; to find the Fountain of Youth or save the kingdom from invaders. But in the Hunger Games, there is no adventure and the rest of your companions are dead by the end.

Our father holds both of our hands as we walk to the Reaping, one on each side. "My boys," he says, eyes glinting with maybe nostalgia or worry, I'm not sure. "You won't try anything at the ceremony, will you?"

I roll my eyes. He must have overheard us talking with the other Sock Knights yesterday about possible ways to disrupt the Reaping. The escort sure deserves it, and so do all the Peacekeepers at the square. The rest of the Sock Knights and I like to mess with them sometimes, hiding their batons and helmets when they aren't looking. Some of them have started to suspect us, but they won't ever be able to prove it. We're small and train in stealth the same way the knights of old did so long ago. I bet if we wanted to, Tag and I could sneak away from the Reaping and no one would find us.

The rest of the Sock Knights are waiting for us at the square. As we approach, they greet us with the secret wave and handshake.

"Hey Spool!" Baize chirps. "What do we have planned for tonight?"

"Let's get together right after the ceremony and look through the trash at Vender's Avenue, then go around and resell it."

One of the reasons that the Sock Knights was formed was to help provide for our families, and we have various "business ventures", as we like to call them, throughout the district. We've opened hair-dying services using fabric dye, stands selling drinks, and even sock puppet shows. But one of our most lucrative ideas is to sell luxury foods that the stores on Vender's Avenue throw out. The poorer families like ours are willing to pay for the burnt pastries and stale bread.

Our profit isn't enough to sustain our families on its own, but combined with our work at the factories, its enough to keep us away from tesserae. None of us had to take out any for our first year, an accomplishment that not many people in the district other than the wealthy can say. Most people have their children take out tesserae while they're younger, when they don't have many slips to begin with, then only realize later what a mistake they've made.

But the Sock Knights are not fools; we're always thinking ahead.

The Reaping begins the same way it always does, but it seems different this time around. I'm in danger of being picked. I know the odds are in my favor, but the thought still persists.

In no time, the girl's name is picked. Everyone holds their breath in anticipation.

"Sock Northsilk!"  
A murmur ripples through the crowd. Everyone knows the Northsilk name, and many know Sock herself. She climbs up the stairs to the stage with her fists at her sides, her face stricken when she turns toward us. She's shaking slightly, but manages not to cry.

Tension is palpable in the air. No one likes it when a twelve-year old is chosen, much less the child of a wealthy family. It just reminds us that no one is safe.

"How amazing!" the escort chirps, apparently delighted that a child is being sent to die. "Now for the boys!"

I close my eyes and try to breathe. If I'm chosen, I won't want to appear afraid.

"Tag Nylon!"

The breath is knocked out of me, and I'm unable to do anything as Tag moves away from my side and towards the stage. This is impossible. There's no way that two kids with only one slip could be chosen in the same year! There has to have been a mistake. There's a strange ringing in my ears, and I can't hear a word the escort is saying, my vision glazed over. Before I know it, the ceremony is over, and Tag is being dragged back to the Justice Building along with the Northsilk girl.

The mayor dismisses everyone, and I still feel like I can't breathe. The other Sock Knights are staring at me in horror. I realize what I have to do and rush to my parents at the outskirts of the square. They're both crying already, pulling me to the Justice Building. I realize what I have to do.

…

"Switch clothes with me," I say firmly.

"What?" Tag has teartracks all down his face, wiping at his nose. "Why?"  
"Just do it. You trust me, don't you?"

Our parents are already outside, letting me have a moment with my twin. I can tell his asthma is starting to act up again, probably for the entire time he would be in the Capitol.

"Just change your clothes," I insist. "I'll see you in two weeks, tops."

Sock Northsilk (12)- D8F

My parents are the only ones who come to visit me. They hug me close to their chests and cry, distraught that their only child is going to die. I'm sure they think, like everyone else, that I will die as soon as that gong goes off in the arena. It's what the entire district will expect.

"Here, little princess," Daddy gives me Sir Hoot, my precious stuffed owl. I wasn't allowed to bring in with me into the square, so he had kept him for me.

"Thank you," I say softly, but the words cut deep. I know I won't die. I'm not going to be a princess anymore; I have to be a warrior. I have to come home.

Hey everyone! Sorry this took so long to post; this week has been crazy. I have three exams on Monday, can you believe it?! I'm going to try to get the rest of the Reaping out as quickly as possible, hopefully with one a day.

The tributes we've seen so far are pretty old, but now we have some younger ones in the arena. I hope you guys liked the chapter!


	11. District 9 Reaping

_Grizelda "Zel" Weaver (18)- D9F_

It's been a tough morning. Reaping day is hard for everyone, but Iona has been especially inconsolable. Her first time last year had been much of the same. She had been terrified of being picked, and cried all day after a boy two years older than her was picked. She didn't even know him that well, but just recognizing his face was enough to make her cry for days after he died in the bloodbath. This year, with two slips of paper in the glass ball, she's more terrified than ever. I don't mind comforting her, but I can't say that her fear is completely baseless. Children have been reaped with better odds before. And with four children in our family, three of which are of reaping age, the odds are not exactly in our favor.

At least it's my last year, although Della-Marie will be starting next year. I guess that's just how the Hunger Games work; no family is ever really safe.

"Zel, what if I'm picked?" Iona asks tearfully.

"That's not going to happen," I say, gently stroking her hair. "You just have to get through the next few hours and we'll be able to come back and eat cake! Doesn't that sound great?"  
Iona wipes her eyes. "Yeah…"

Ezra pokes his head into the door. "Zel, we're leaving soon. Are you guys good?"  
"I think we're ready to go." I push one of Iona's curls behind her ear, putting the other hand on my belly as I stand up. It's good that I have three younger siblings to practice mothering before Reina is born.

Ezra and I live in a small building just off of my parents' house, where my entire family has lived for generations. Our fields were first planted hundreds of years ago and we have been tilling the land ever since. I myself have always loved to sew and have become a seamstress, making clothes for people out of our little house. Ezra helps sometimes, but he's better at working in the fields. My parents gave him a job when we got married.

I take Iona by the hand and lead her out where the rest of the family is waiting. Our parents are running around with Aren and Della-Marie in the backyard, our dog barking as he chases them. It's the beginning of spring and the crops are just starting to peek out of the soil. This time of year is a lot of hard work, but the smell of the fresh air and sounds of the dogs barking happily makes it all worth it.

I always wished that my first child would be born during this time, but sadly Ezra and I just didn't time it right. She'll be born in four months in the autumn, when things are dying instead.

"Are we ready to go?" My mother asks us, smiling. People always said we look exactly alike, but I never really saw it until the last few years. Our faces have similar structures, with sharp jawlines and pretty auburn hair. With my dad's green eyes and darker skin than most in District Nine, Ezra says I'm the most beautiful woman in Panem.

"Yes, we're all good now," I lightly push Iona towards her. She runs and gives her a hug as Aren is tackled by our German Shepard.  
"Alright, everyone! It's time to leave," my father calls to everyone, banging on the side of his old rusty truck.

Not many people have vehicles in District Nine, but most of the farmers have at least one to get them around the fields. We all pile in, Ezra and Aren helping me up into the passenger seat. I would like to sit in the bed with everyone else, but I'm afraid it will be too bumpy for the baby.

 _Albert "Triple A" Anderson (13)- D9F_

I can see the sunlight behind my eyelids, the gentle breeze rustling my hair. I open my eyes to see the large oak in front of me and reach out. Sometimes I wish I could fly into the trees. Most of them around here are too tall to climb, but I enjoy trying nonetheless, though without much success. But this particular tree, my favorite one, is too tall for anyone to climb, and luckily too thick for anyone to chop down.

The sparse woods on the east side of the district don't offer much shade in the summer, or many leaves to fall in the autumn, but they gradually turn into a thicker forest just on the edge of the fence. I'm not exactly proud to say that I've wandered outside of the fence a few times, but never to gather anything and definitely not to kill anything. Just to sit among the trees.

"Andy!"  
I sigh, letting my hand drop back onto my chest. Usually the sound of my sister's voice is more than welcome, but not today. I would just like to be alone until the Reaping starts, but I know that's impossible. As much as I don't like talking to others, I can never escape from it.

I stand and head back to our little house at the edge of the woods. I know these trees like the back of my hand, but Ellie has never let go of her fear of the unknown. She's dressed in a checkered blue and white dress with a white ribbon in her hair. It looks nice against our blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Is she waiting?" I ask with slight dread.

"Yes, she's a little upset," Ellie says, crossing her arms. "You better go get dressed."  
Our small house isn't exactly luxurious, but our grandmother makes enough for Ellie and I to not have to take out tesserae. It soothes my nerves a little, knowing that I only have two slips of paper in the glass ball. But the idea of me being picked, or Minka, or Keesher, my two best friends, makes my stomach roll. At least Ellie isn't of Reaping age yet; there's still one year before that happens.

The window of the house that faces the trees in broken at the moment, something that doesn't' bother us during the spring and summers but could mean frostbite in the bitter winters. I dress into my nice Reaping clothes and stare out this window, out into the forest. The leaves are just starting to bud on the trees. I wish that I could never have to think about anything else.

Grandma limps into the room, her face wizened and frowning. "I see you're finally ready."

I wince when I realize she's still wearing her butchering clothes. I can never get used to the blood that comes with our family's line of work. I avoid eating meat as much as I can, even though my father's business of butchery was passed to his wife's mother when they died. I don't remember much of my parents, but their business is still providing for us after their death. Since it's Reaping day, many families will be ordering some celebratory meat, so Grandma's been busy the past couple of days.

"Are we leaving soon?" I ask.

"Yes," she says in her too-loud voice. I know she doesn't mean to be so noisy, but I'm sure everyone within a three-mile radius can hear her. "Get your sister, we're leaving soon."

I nod solemnly. Sometimes she can be forgetful as well.

…

Minka and Keesher are waiting for me outside of the square. The gesture makes me smile inwardly, though I tend to keep my emotions on the inside. Minka hugs me as I draw near. She's much taller than Keesher and I, being two grades older than us. This will be her fourth Reaping, and my second. Keesher's lips perk up when I pull back from Minka. He had an early birthday, so this will be his first Reaping. I can see a dark bruise peeking out above his shirt and my spirits fall even more.

"How are you, Keesher?" I ask gently.

"I'm fine," he assures me. "Things just get a little tense on Reaping day. You know how it is, Triple A."

I nod and smile at the nickname, though my worries don't dissipate. Keesher's parents never seemed to love him like my parents did Ellie and I, and the kids at school love to pick on him. We understand each other in that was at least.

"Let's get in line," Minka says. Grandma and Ellie go off to the side as the three of us make our way to the center of the square. I hate the finger pricking; last year it had made my finger burn all day, a constant reminder of the Games. And the sight of blood made me sick. I wince as the Peacekeeper woman stabs me.

Minka grabs my hand briefly before we go our separate ways. I wish I could just disappear into the woods like we always do. She's the only one brave enough to venture into the unknown with me, and it's actually where we met. I was bullied a lot when I was younger, and Minka was the only person who was kind to me. I guess now we're that person to Keesher.

"Are we all having a great time here in District Nine?" the escort shouts into the mic.

The silence is deafening, but that doesn't bring him down, still grinning at us like a lunatic. His accent is hard to listen to, harsh and high-pitched.

"How about we start with the girls, hmm?"  
His fantastical blue hair bounces as he dips his hand into the girl's ball. He carefully unfolds the slip and cheerfully announces, "Grizelda Weaver!"  
A loud screech comes from the girl's section, followed by several long screams and sobs. The Peacekeepers, sensing that this one was going to be a troublemaker, push their way into the crowd and drag out a beautiful woman with darker skin and a large belly. As she mounts the stage, murmurs of discontent rumble through the crowd. This isn't the first time a pregnant girl has been chosen for the Games, but it's incredibly rare, and I can't remember if it's ever happened in District Nine.

The escort's smile fades when he sees the woman, her tears still streaming down her face, sobbing uncontrollably onstage. "Oh my…" he says. "May the odds be ever in your favor, my dear," he says, and without further ado he walks to the boy's ball and picks a new slip.

"Albert Anderson."

There's another loud reaction, this time in the outskrits of the square, and for a second I think I might have misheard the name. Someone who isn't of age with my name who has my name was accidentally picked and they will redo it. But then I realize the voice is my sister's, crying and wailing.

I feel myself start to shake as I walk towards the stage, but I try to keep a calm appearance. I won't let the Capitol see my fear.

"How great!" the escort says. He looks even more freakish up close, his eyes surgically enlarged. But they aren't filled with the joy he was expressing earlier. I imagine he's wishing he had been assigned a different district. A pregnant girl and a thirteen-year old. The Capitol will be fascinated by us, sure, but everyone knows strong older children have a better chance.

"Now shake hands, you too!"

As I turn to shake Grizelda's hand, I see the look in her eyes. She's stopped crying, and her gaze is murderous. Maybe she stands a chance after all.

 _Grizelda "Zel" Weaver (18)- D9F_

Everyone is inconsolable, of course, but Ezra most of all. He hands me a handkerchief, one that I immediately recognize.

"I can't take this," I tell him. "I made it for you."

"It's a piece of home, and me," he says tearfully. "Please just take it."

The white handkerchief is embroidered with his initials in pretty pink lettering, my way of revealing the gender of the baby to him several weeks ago. I crumple in my hands and give him another hug, whispering in his ear, "I'll do it for you and for Reina. I promise."

 **Hey guys! Here's District 9! You know, while I was writing this, I realized that while we don't know much about District 9 from the books, it's probably a very beautiful and tragic place, and very peaceful. That's how I imagined it at least. Hope you liked it!**


	12. District 10 Reaping

Denver O'Casey (14)- D10M

I wake up to something tickling my nose. I sneeze as the fluffy mass makes a home on my face, rumbling softly.

"Alfie, get off!" I tell the cat in annoyance, shoving him away. I roll over and come face to face with Buddy, his tongue lolling out as he pants with excitement. He's not supposed to be on the beds, but he likes to snuggle with me anyways. I peek over him at the other bed in the room, which is empty. I frown as I throw off my covers. Daelyn and Carissa must already be up.

Getting ready for the Reaping, I realize. The thought makes my stomach feel queasy. I stand up and another fluffball curls around my feet, meowing up at me. I pick up Archie and head into the other room. Our small house only has three rooms, one for me and my sisters, one for my parents and brothers, and another for cooking and the television. The black screen seems so much more menacing than usual. Our electricity usually never works, leaving it useless, but there will be no power shortages in the coming weeks. I'll have to watch twenty three people die on that screen.

I'm surprised to see that there's no one here. Perhaps they're outside. I open the front the door, Buddy immediately pushing his way past me to smell the budding plants in the cracked pavement and pee on them. I let Archie jump from my arms, Alfie following his brother into the maze of buildings that made up the District Ten residential area. But small concrete yard, now full of animals, is suspiciously devoid of my family.

Normally there would be a few people bustling about in the morning, but not today. The town is silent. Where could my family have gone? I close the door and check the clock in the kitchen. The Reaping isn't for a couple hours. I decide to sit and wait for them to see what's going on. Certainly nothing too serious.

About half an hour later, there's a scratch at the door. I open it to let in the animals, and come face to face with my father.

"Denver!" he exclaims, clearly surprised. "You scared me!"

"I'm sorry," I mumble, stepping aside to let him in. "Where did you go?"

He straightens his jacket, already in his Reaping clothes. "We were looking for Daelyn."

I should have known that Daelyn wouldn't come home last night. Her behavior ever since her best friend was killed in the bloodbath during the Quarter Quell. There were no weapons or any supplies aside from food and water at the Cornucopia, so the boy from Four had immediately ran to his closest competitor after the gong sounded, and strangled her with his bare hands. It had been brutal, and I still have nightmares about it to this day. I can't imagine how it is for Daelyn.

"Was she at the rodeo?" I ask quietly. That was where she had been hiding last year. It was her old hangout with Daisy before she died. Daelyn always went there when she got too drunk to remember what time it was; usually in the middle of the night.

"No," my father says quietly. "I came back… to get you. We need your help finding her."

I try to keep my face neutral. I realize what's going on; my family forgot me here to go look for Daelyn, and now my father has come back to look for her. I can't exactly say I'm surprised; there's a reason my pets are my best friends.

"You aren't dressed yet," my father says sharply. "Get ready and let's go! We have to find your sister before the Reaping starts."

"Alright, alright," I mumble, heading back to my room. I glance at the other side of the room, where Carissa' paintings and drawings decorate the walls, an ever-present reminder of her success as an artist. Tallen works for our parents at their butcher shop, and Paxton works under the mayor, and Daelyn may have her moments, but she's a brilliant writer and charismatic. I don't think if I went missing one morning that anyone would even notice except for Buddy, Alfie, and Archie.

And maybe Daelyn, but her behavior has been more and more erratic with each passing month since Daisy died. She used to be my closest friend, but she's seems to have forgotten me and spends her time drinking and getting into shouting matches with our parents.

Still, she's my sister. I should get her to the Reaping so the Peacekeepers won't kill her for not attending. Although sometimes, I feel like that's what she wants, and the thought makes me feel uneasy. I quickly get dressed in the same Reaping clothes as last year and look at myself in the mirror. Ginger hair, glasses, pale skin. I look like I could be anyone from Ten, a boy who isn't afraid of others and who lives in a loving family. I guess appearances are all that matter today, anyway, so I'll take it.

Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F

As I round up the last of the foals, one of their mothers neighs at me from the other enclosure.

"Just hold on, it's almost your turn," I tell her softly. She neighs at me again and snorts in indignation, shaking her head. I usher the foals back in with their parents, then put the rope around Amber's neck to take her out, closing the wooden gate behind us. Amber is always the most talkative of the horses, not quite getting along with any of the others and always complaining. I climb up onto her back and let her take me around for a little while, the well-worn dust kicking up from her hooves.

When we're finished, I slide off and stroke her nose gently. "You have to try to be positive, Amber," I tell her. "The other horses aren't trying to hurt you. They just want to play with you, see?"

Amber snorts as if she can hear me and turns her head away, prancing back into her enclosure with the others. Louie calls me crazy for talking to the horses like people, but I don't mind. The ranch has been in our family for generations, and I'm convinced we are real life horse-whisperers. I have a connection with them, especially as the only female that works on the ranch. Though my father, grandfather Louie, and brother Buck are great with the horses, the mares just can't connect with them like I can. That's what I tell them anyway, to make Buck give me his incredulous look that makes me laugh.

Once the horses are all accounted for and in their enclosures, I start back to the house. Like the other ranchers, our house in on the outskirts of the district where there's plenty of room for the animals to roam. In the distance, I can see our neighbor's heifers grazing on the sparse grass. I'm glad Louie decided to run a horse ranch instead one for animals that go to the slaughter… I don't know if I could bear to send my animals to their deaths. Most people in Ten are used to it, but my family's horses are like our children. So much so that my parents named me Filly, a baby horse. We raise them and they go off to live the rest of their lives, whether as a vehicle elsewhere in the district or for a Peacekeeper somewhere else in Panem, or for the thousands of other reasons the Capitol needs horses.

Back at the house, everyone is ready for the Reaping. Pinto, Buck's girlfriend, is already here in a light pink dress. It reminds me of an old Capitol style. I like it, but it's not for me; growing up around only males has given me a more tomboyish way of dressing. I have a nice pair of pants and a dress shirt waiting for me in my room.

"Glad you've finally joined us," Louie says when I open the screen door and let it bang shut behind me. "Do you want to be late?"

"Relax, I'm getting ready now," I wave my hand to deflect his words, returning his small smile.

As I walk through the short hallway to my room, I glimpse my father sitting in the one he shares with Buck. I resist my instinct to talk to him and instead leave him to it. The Hunger Games have never really affected our family like so many others, but death has taken its toll on my father. My mother's disease took her from us when I was five, and Louie has told me before his son has never been the same since. Although I don't have too many memories of my mother, Buck has told me enough stories to get a sense of what she was like. After her diagnosis, she had spent most of her remaining time trying different treatments, hoping to extend her life as long as possible. Nothing worked.

Once I'm dressed for the Reaping, we head to the square. Most of District Ten is flat and sparsely populated, despite being quite large. The houses are few and far between, with most space dedicated to livestock. The small downtown area is pretty much within itself a market, made up of a few stores and the shopkeepers' homes next to the meatpacking plants. Livestock raising and meatpacking are the only real jobs available in District Ten aside from these few stores, situated closely together just outside of downtown. They're the tallest buildings in the district, smoke constantly billowing from them towards the sky.

Today is a pretty slow day, though nothing moves very quickly around here anyway. Everyone is milling around the square, the Justice Building decorated lavishly in a way that only happens during the Games season. Although the Games themselves are horrifying, the banners bring some color into this dreary place, which is always plagued by death anyway. The escorts have said before that the district has a distinct smell of blood and feces, but everyone around here is used to it. We have nothing to compare it to.

Ox and Breeze are waiting for me just inside the square. They're both muscular from work on the ranches just like me, tall and freckled like most people from District Ten, and smiling at me as I approach.

"Let's get this over with," Ox says gruffly, leading us into our respective sections. He stands near the aisle so he can talk to Breeze and I in the girls' section.

"We have the most slips out of anyone," Breeze says anxiously. "Eighteen-year olds who take out tesserae are the most picked and all three of us are exactly that!"  
"Don't worry about it so much," I remind her. "At least it's our last year. We won't have to worry about it anymore after this, and later tonight we'll be able to celebrate becoming ineligible."

"I don't know how you be so calm, Filly" Breeze says with a small laugh. I look around and realize most of the girls aren't adopting my mindset; they're clenching their teeth and watching the movements onstage with barely-concealed fear.

"It's just the way I am," I shrug. "We can't help if we're picked or not."

Denver O'Casey (14)- D10M

One good thing that comes out of Daelyn's excursions is that it takes my mind off of everything else. No one is worried about an exam in school, or problems at the shop, or the Reaping, when Daelyn is missing. By the time we find her passed out behind the pastry shop, I've all but forgotten that my family forgot me earlier, and Carissa hasn't even had time to stress about her first Reaping. When we arrive at the square just in the nick of time, we haul Daelyn to the seventeen-year old's section and take our own places. She's still pretty drunk, but there's no law saying you have to be sober at the ceremony, just present.

By the time the mayor is finished with his speech, the reality of the Reaping starts to set in. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants and try to focus on the escort's words.

"Happy Hunger Games everyone! Now, let's jump right in."

He waltzes over to the girl's glass ball and snatches up a name. His fingernails are grown out like talons, making him look like a bird of prey. He unfolds the paper, cheerfully reading out, "Filly Marcoffe!"

The square falls silent as the chosen girl climbs the stage. She's dressed in some clean pants and a rancher blouse, obviously a farm girl. I'm happy it's not Carissa or Daelyn, but my palms start to sweat again when the escort steps up to the boys' ball.

I close my eyes as he draws out the slip. I try to calm myself down, breathing deeply.

"Denver O'Casey!"  
I suddenly feel like I'm going to pass out. I open my eyes and feel tears start to creep down my face. My feet move toward the stage, sobbing softly as the escort pats my shoulder gently. "Congratulations, Denver! It's just so exciting, I know! Now shake hands, my dears!"

Filly reaches out and takes my hand, her blue eyes sad and wide. I can hardly grab onto it, trying to wipe my tears away with my other hand. I shouldn't let the Capitol see me like this.

I've never been in the Justice Building before, but I do know it's the nicest place in District Ten. In the visitor's room, the couches are red velvet with gold trim, the colors of Panem, with a large ornate fireplace on the opposite wall. My tears stain the velvet underneath me, unable to stop falling.

My family comes to visit soon after, but Daelyn is missing. I wonder if she's ran off again but my parents say she wanted to visit me separately. I feel bad for complaining about them earlier; I'll never be able to see Cassara paint again or hear about Tallen's crazy customers at the butcher's shop. I wish I could go back and cherish every moment I had with them.

Daelyn comes in next, her face surprisingly blank. "I love you, Denver," she tells me, handing me one of her necklaces. I recognize it as one of her favorites out of the few pieces of jewelry we can afford. I wrap in the silver heart charm in my fist.

"I love you, too."

"Say hi to Daisy for me."

Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F

No one wants to talk much; our family has never had much to say anyway.

"Do your best to come back to us," Buck says awkwardly, handing me a horse-hair charm. They're all over District Ten, especially among horse ranchers, but this one looks like he hastily handmade it himself.

"I made it from Amber's mane," he says. "She's going to miss you while you're gone."

"I'm sure she will," I say with a smile.

"How are you so… okay with this?" my father asks suddenly, and I can hear tears in his voice.

I turn to him and take a deep breath. "There's no point in being upset about it," I say. "It's already done. I'm just going to do my best and come back here one way or another as a celebrity." A smile grows on my face. "I might win this thing and then we'll never have to work on the ranch ever again. What do you think about that?"

My father smiles and Louie laughs softly. "That's our Filly. Make us proud, won't you?"

Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay. Here's District Ten! I hope everyone has had a good week. :)


	13. District 11 Reaping

Marjoram "Jo" Paella (17)- D11F

I'm awake before anyone else in the house, braiding my dark brown hair in the mirror. There are some light skin people in District Eleven, but my hair is what distinguishes me from pretty much everyone here. I would like to cut it short in order to make it less conspicuous, but my parents always tell me to be proud of my Capitol heritage. Usually everyone treats us with respect because of it, but I know from experience that today will be different.

Reaping day especially is the day that the other residents of District Eleven send us loathing glances as we walk past, avoiding speaking to us. The days that are tributes day in the Games are even worse. A couple of years ago, when both of Eleven's tributes had died in the bloodbath, the town baker had refused to serve my father and called him a murderer. We had to get the mayor involved, and the outcome wasn't pretty. The baker had a few lashes in the town square and the district was reminded that Capitolites are to be treated with utmost respect.

Of course, I'm not truly a Capitolite, being born here in Eleven. But the same rules apply to me and Sage as they do to our parents, though we don't want them to.

Our parents' adventurous spirit is what brought them to Eleven to be teachers, but they weren't adventurous enough to live the full Eleven experience, living in squalor and poverty with little food and space. Our house is one of the largest in District Eleven, with three bedrooms, a kitchen and a separate dining room. The only bigger ones are the mayor's and the mansions in Victor's Village, which is where I'm off to first today.

I'm up early for Reaping day; most people sleep in as long as they can. It's a rare day off for most of them, and they want to avoid thinking about the Reaping. As such the district is eerily quiet, no chatter of fieldhands heading to the orchards at dawn, no hum of activity in the downtown area where we live. The silence is deafening, only punctuated by the occasional birdsong.

Victor's Village is only a few blocks away. It stands empty as ever with only a few houses occupied. Seeder's is the closest to the rest of the town, being the oldest living victor. I knock on the door and wait for a few seconds before it swings open. Seeder's wizened face appears, cracking a smile.

"Jo, you're here," she croaks, opening the door wider to let me in.

"Of course I'm here," I say, stepping inside. "It's good to see you. I've been too busy to visit often."

"I know that you have your studies," Seeder says kindly, leading me into the kitchen. She's already made toast and eggs for us, along with some apple juice. The food is luxurious for District Eleven, especially the eggs. Protein is hard to come by here.

I sit down at the table and sip my glass of apple juice. Seeder sits down next to me. The windows are open and the sounds of birds drift into the house. "My parents are the ones that want me to study hard," I say. "I don't care that much about it."

"Is that what things are like in the Capitol?"

"I wouldn't know, you know that," I say indignantly. Seeder likes to tease me about the fact that I've never been to the Capitol, since that's how we met. My parents, ever the lovers of the Hunger Games, left me in charge of the most competent and gentle of the victors in the Village. Sage hadn't been born at that time, but in successive visits, he had stayed with Seeder as well. Our parents didn't want us to see the Capitol, that place they lived most of their lives and drone on about for hours, just in case we ever are Reaped.

"If you ever have the honor of being Reaped, you're reaction should be the same as all the other tributes," my father told me before their last visit to the Capitol when I was thirteen. That's when I realized why he also keeps the two of us in shape with a trainer and makes us take out tesserae each year. They said it was just a way to save money by not having to buy oil, but I know better. And I might have been excited about the prospect of being Reaped just like Sage is, but luckily my visits with Seeder have opened my eyes.

After we finish breakfast, Seeder shows me the garden she's planted. Every year she grows vegetables and some fruits for herself and the other victors. It's a way to keep busy and create new life out of something terrible. The Games take something from each of us, even if we aren't picked. Each year the friends and family of the tributes prepare for the worst and hardly ever return to normal… I can't imagine what it's like for Seeder to watch more children sent to their deaths each year.

"For you, honey," Seeder tells me as she hands me a basket full of carrots and strawberries. Fruits and vegetables are all over Eleven, but these are made differently than the others. There's love in them, not fear and hate.

"Thank you," I say. "I think I'll give them to the Rainns, if that's okay."

"You can do whatever you want with them, honey. I hope you have a great day."

The implicit may the odds be ever in your favor makes my stomach turn. "Thanks, Seeder."

After leaving Victor's Village, I head to the Rainns house. It's a small shack on the poorer part of town, but I've spent quite a bit of time there. Even my parents love them; the kids are intelligent and do well in school, which delights them. I often wonder if they realize that school means nothing here. They were sent to instill propaganda in the schools and stamp out dissident thoughts, which they are well aware of. But they never seemed to have realized that grades don't have the same value that they do in the Capitol or some of the other districts.

Tarr answers the door, his sunburnt face erupting into a smile as soon as he sees me. "Jo," he croons. "It's so great to see you."

"Jo!" Alyssum pushes past her father and wraps her arms around my waist. "What did you bring?"

"Will you look at this!" I exclaim, showing her the strawberries. "Compliments of Seeder. Can you believe it?"

Alyssum gives her signature little scream and pulls me inside. Silas and Marigold are waiting, already dressed in their Reaping clothes.  
"Oh, Jo, you didn't have to," Marigold says tiredly, taking the basket from me. Though only fifteen, she sounds like she could be a woman who has lived for decades. Her life hasn't been easy thus far; the death of her mother, her father's injury which renders him incapable to work, and taking care of her brother and sister. Her and Silas do all the work they can, sometimes sacrificing school time to work in the fields, something my parents disapprove, unable to wrap their heads around the necessity of it.

"I'm regifting it to you," I say with a smile. "I know things haven't been the best in the orchards."

The late spring has been seriously messing with the crops, and the Capitol demands their fruits regardless of the weather.

"This is very kind of you," Tarr tells me gently. "You've always done so much for us, Jo."

Tomas Fields (15)- D11M

Usually the sounds of the workers heading to the fields wakes me up each morning, far before Jonathan arrives at the journalism building, but today the square is silent until his footsteps clatter on the stairs. I open my eyes to see him staring right down at me.

"Morning, Tomas."

"Good morning," I say, quickly sitting up. I'm unable to hold back a yawn as he steps over to me to unlock the door.

I get to my feet and follow him inside. The building is stuffy and loud with the sound of the heating and air conditioning pipes humming above us. Still, it's one of the nicest buildings in District Eleven.

I find myself some nice clothes in the drawer at my desk, which holds pretty much all of my possessions. I've never had a lot, so it doesn't bother me. I do wish Jonathan let me sleep inside, though. He tells me a workplace is not a living space, but I practically live here anyway. With nowhere else to go, I spend my time writing articles and organizing the paper, occasionally going out to interview someone. But even that is usually left to an older employee. No correspondent would want to be interviewed by a child.

"Why are you here?" I ask Jonathan curiously. It's Reaping day, which means there's no work. In the morning at least; I know he would probably stop by later to start writing some articles about the ceremony.

"I forgot my coat yesterday," he says, picking it up from his chair. Although Jonathan is certainly not wealthy by any means, he's more well off than a lot of people in Eleven. His coat is a thick, nicely made one that was probably imported from District Eight. As the head of the District Eleven Herald, he's essentially the head of propaganda here, and it pays well.

"The Reaping is soon," he says. "You shouldn't have slept in so late."

"I know," I say, hanging my head a little. It's best to just agree with him when he criticizes me.

"I'm headed over there now. You can just accompany me," Jonathan says dismissively.

I try to hide my small smile. Something like this had happened last year, too. Jonathan tries on put on a hard exterior, but it was him who offered me my job, and allowed me to sleep outside the building. I know he doesn't want me to be alone before the Reaping. With my name in the bowl 23 times this year, my nerves are indeed a little frayed.

But this isn't my first Reaping away from home. My heart hurts a little when I think about Mark and Daniel, who will also be facing the terror of the Reaping this year. I try to see them as often as I can, but it's difficult to avoid our father's watchful eyes. Well, their father's eyes.

Once I'm dressed, Jonathan and I silently make our way to the square. The two of us get along well despite our age difference. We don't feel the need to fill the time with talk, and prefer to focus on whatever's at hand. For me, it's the Reaping. For Jonathan, it's probably mentally outlining the obituaries of the tributes for later.

"Good luck," he tells me awkwardly before we go our separate ways.

I nod in assent and get in line to get my finger pricked. I try to pick out my siblings' faces in the crowd. Tori-Ann and Baelyn will be with their parents, but Mark and Daniel will be here somewhere, but I can't find any of them.

I trudge to the fifteen-year old section, sighing heavily. I look different than most people in the square with my lighter skin and speckled green eyes that give away my heritage. For most of my life I thought it was just a genetic accident, but three years ago my mother had put an end to that. Now I stand out in the crowd for more than one reason. Everyone gives me side-eye glances and whispers as I walk past. They know that I was thrown out of my house for being the product of adultery. The man I thought was my father, who I thought loved me, had thrown me out when my mother finally confessed. My real father is a Peacekeeper from Four that she met fifteen years ago. Now I have no home and no real family, just a hybrid living on the streets.

The educational video doesn't help my mood. It's supposed to be uplifting and exciting, chronicling the victory over the rebels and institution of the Hunger Games, but no one here is very excited. But there's something to be said about the escort, who is prancing about on stage, her wig flailing wildly. She doesn't seem to realize how ridiculous she looks.

"Happy Hunger Games everyone! And may the odds ever be in your favor!" she waves enthusiastically at the camera. At least she's honest about who she's really doing this for. Not us, just the Capitol.

"How exciting! Let's jump right in, shall we?"

She bounces over to the girl's ball and snatches up a slip. The crowd holds its breath as she unfolds it.

"Marigold Rainn!"

The square is silent as Marigold climbs up to the stage, her whole body shaking wildly. Her eyes are wide and terrified.

"How incredible! Now, do we have any vol-"

"I volunteer!"

A gasp runs through the crowd. It's been years since someone has volunteered.

The Reaped girl descends back to the ground, the murmurs continuing as a familiar face takes her place. It's that Capitol girl, the one whose parents are teachers at the school! She stands out even more than me with dark brown hair in two braids and lighter skin than most, even me. The escort doesn't seem to have any idea who she is, but the Eleven citizens are obviously shocked. The whispers continue until the mayor himself stands and shushes us loudly.

"Oh… a volunteer! How lovely!" the escort smiles, her teeth unnaturally bright. It's easy to tell she's both excited and confused. "What is your name, dear?"

"Marjorem Paella," she says. The escort frowns momentarily, recognizing that Paella is a Capitolite name that doesn't belong in Eleven, but recovers quickly. "Wonderful! Now let's see who your partner shall be!"

This whole thing is making me angry. A Capitolite in the Games? She'll get special treatment for sure! What is they decide to exempt her and choose someone else instead? But I realize that won't happen. Because it doesn't matter where your parents are from, it just matters where you end up. And where you end up is usually shit.

"Tomas Fields!"

Shit.

Suddenly there are two Peacekeepers grabbing my arms and hoisting me upright. There's dirt in my mouth. They push me toward the stairs, and my feet start moving of their own accord. I can't believe I fell over. What will the Capitol think of me now?  
As I mount the stage, I hear Peacekeepers laughing not far away. I know their sniggering is directed towards me. All of my rage about the Games, about my family, about not being fucking able to eat breakfast this morning bubbles up inside me until I can't take it.

"How lovely! Now it's ti-"

The glass bowl that contains the boys' names shatters on the ground. I'm breathing heavily when the Peacekeepers return, this time roughly placing my hands around my back. But they can't really hurt me, everyone knows that. Harming a tribute is a horrible offense. So what can they do if I destroy every little thing about their precious Games?

Marjorem "Jo" Paella (17)- D11F

I wonder how most tribute's families react to their child being Reaped, or volunteering in my case. I imagine this is something that the Careers go through, but they are trained for years beforehand, bloodthirsty monsters. I don't want to kill, and here I am listening to my parents give me tips.

"Oh, sweetheart, we are so proud of you!" my mom reminds me shrilly. "This is such an honor for all of us!"  
"If you wanted to volunteer, we could have tried to… train you up a little," my father says suggestively. It's technically illegal to train before going to the Capitol, and though blind eyes are turned from One, Two, and Three, anyone else be probably be lashed or worse… but my family has always had special privileges here.

"I didn't want to train, I just… I think I have a better chance than Marigold," I finish.

"That you do," my mother agrees. "Just pay attention in the Training Center, and just be yourself! Caesar is going to love you, and so are all the sponsors… oh, sweetheart, you're going to do amazing."

"Thanks mom."

Sage is silent throughout much of this exchange, watching me closely. Before it's time for them to leave, I give him a hug and whisper, "Take care of Seeder for me. And the Rainns."

He nods almost imperceptibly.

The Peacekeepers are kind to my family as usual, knocking on the door before opening it and advising them to leave.

"Goodbye, Jo," my mother gives me a hug. "We love you!"  
After they leave, Seeder hobbles in with Marigold in tow. Marigold is crying, something she hardly ever does. Seeder's face is stone, her expression hardened.

"Why did you do that, Jo?" Marigold sobs.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't let you go, "I say gently. "Your family needs you. And my parents want me to go anyway."

This only makes her sob harder as she hands me something; a small necklace with a apple tree on it. It's probably the most expensive thing she owns.

"You can't give this to me-"

"It was my mother's." Her upper lip wobbles. "Please just take it."

I curl my fist around it in resolve.

"Jo."  
I look up to Seeder. "Yes?"

"You're going to bring Marigold her necklace back. Because I'm going to mentor you through this, and we're going to win."

Tomas Fields (15)- D11M

Jonathan doesn't come visit me, which is disappointing, though I'm not sure what I expected. Who does come, very unexpectedly, is my family.

Not Franklin, of course, who hates me more than anything as a symbol of his wife's infidelity, but everyone else is here, sobbing inconsolably.

Tori-Ann tearfully puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry we couldn't do more to help you," she says, her voice choked up. "We should have fought harder to make you stay. Then you wouldn't have had to take out as much tesserae-"  
"I would still have had the same chance," I tell her softly. Our family was never on the rich side, and all five of us take out tesserae whenever we needed it.

"Still, we should have done more for you," Baelyn agrees, taking my hand.

"Yes." My mother's voice trembles. "I'm so sorry, Tomas. I love you so much, my sweet boy."

She hands me something. It's a black pearl, beautiful and opaque. I stare at my reflection in its surface.

"Your father gave it to me before he was transferred to a different district," she whispers, as though her affair is still a secret. "He never came back, but you have to, Tomas. Promise?"

"I promise."

Hey everyone! I'm super sorry about the long wait. The end of the semester is coming which means I might not be able to get District 12 to you until another week, but I'm going to try for earlier! Once the break comes I will be able to update much more quickly. Thanks for reading! :)


	14. District 12 Reaping

Eryn Winters (15)- D12F

The sweet smell of sugar fills the air as it often does in the morning. My clothes always smell like candy from the shop, and all the kids at school tell me I smell sickeningly sweet all the time. I don't notice it anymore, except in the morning when the new candy is being melted and shaped downstairs. I throw off my covers, careful not to wake Merylla who is still asleep on the other side of the room. Her sleeping face looks a lot like mine, though with some noticeable differences. Her jawline is more pronounced and her nose is a different shape. Still, we are definitely twins. We have the same wavy blonde hair as everyone in our family and hazel eyes that we inherited from our mother.

I get dressed into my pretty blue dress that Jylly and Daisy used to wear before me. Merylla wore it last year, and now i'm wearing , the shop is closed despite the smell of the candy being made. We'll only open after the Reaping is over, when families come looking for some celebratory snacks. No Reaping party isn't complete without a sweet treat for the children who have been spared from the Capitol's bloodlust.

My sisters are all awake and milling around in the shop. This year will be a difficult one for us. Five out of the six of us will be in the Reaping this year, only excluding Janah. She's running around the candy displays wildly, laughing and twirling around a ribbon that's supposed to be in her hair.

"Janah, you little-" Jylly cuts herself off before she gets scolded by Mom.

"Stop running, Janah," Daisy says sternly, fluffing Dussie's hair. "And someone needs to wake up Merylla and Eryn!"

"I'm right here," I say softly. My sisters' ears are attuned to my quiet voice, so their heads turn immediately to me. Daisy smiles, her eyes soft.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," she says. "Is Merylla with you?"  
"No, she's still sleeping. I thought we still had time."

"I'll wake her," Jylly exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. Janah laughs in glee as our eldest sister pushes past me to go upstairs. Janah has been shielded from the truth of today as much as possible. At only nine years old, she's too young to worry about her sisters dying in the Hunger Games. She watches the Games like everyone else in Panem, but during the violent parts, we try to distract her with real games. It's gotten harder as she gets older, and her own first Reaping will be in three years, but since she's the baby of the family, we try to sugarcoat it as much as we can.

"You great in that dress, Eryn," Dad tells me from over the counter. He's counting the money in the register, probably wondering how much more he'll be able to make today.

"That's what you told me!" Daisy says indignantly.

"What?" Dad looks hopelessly confused, just like he always is when it comes to our clothes. We share so much it's hard to keep track of whose is whose.

Behind the storefront is the kitchen, in which the candy is cooking alongside our breakfast. I eat up all my eggs as fast as I can. We eat better than most in Twelve, since we own our own store, but I often wonder what will happen when we're all grown up. I imagine Jylly and Daisy will take over the store, and Merylla, Dussie, Janah and I will have to find our own way. The idea of living in the Seam scares me. I see the children all the time in school, sunken faces and bodies, barely able to stay awake. A few years ago a kid in my grade had fallen asleep in class and wouldn't wake up. We never saw him again.

Soon, Merylla and Jylly join us at the table. Merylla is wearing another dress that our sisters wore before her, a pale green number.

"Good morning, sunshine," Mom says swiftly.

"Sorry," Merylla blushes. We look even more alike when she does that.

"Just be glad you have us to wake you. Eryn, come stir this please."

As I stir the stiffening sugar in the pot on the stove, my mind starts to go to dark places. I know that there is much larger chance that a poorer girl will be Reaped, as it happens almost every year. But with five of us eligible, it makes our chances even higher. At least none of us have ever had to take out tesserae. Times may get tough, but that's something our parents have always been adamant against.

"Alright, let's get ready to go," Dad says tiredly. I know these worries are weighing on him as well. Janah clings to him as he stands up, her hair still a mess. I finish stirring the candy and help Mom pour it out onto the counter to dry. We cut it into long pieces while Dad tries to fix Janah's hair and Jylly and Dussie argue over who gets to wear Mom's silver earrings. It's a wild mess, but it would be incomplete without all of us.

Rooker Holm (13)- D12M

The Reaping always makes me nervous. Even before I was eligible, I was always terrified that someone I knew would be picked. My worst fear was that for Gaia, who despite seeming much older, is only sixteen and has been doing this for years now. Since this is only my second time, I haven't acquired any of her bravery yet, though I hope I do eventually.

My family stops by the Blooms before heading to the Reaping. I'm dressed in my very best, a white dress shirt and some old pants. The Blooms are not much better off than us, so I'm not embarrassed at the moment. But the square will be full of townie kids in their crisp morning clothes, and I have nothing but one of my dad's old mining shirts.

Flint's mouth breaks into a toothy smile when he opens the door. "Rooker! You're here!"

"We sure are," my mother says. "We thought maybe we could all walk to the Reaping together."

"Yeah!" Flint disappears into the house, in search of his family. We step inside to the house that is so similar to our own. Neither of us live in the Seam, but our lives aren't easy either. My stomach feels queasy when I think about the tesserae I'd had to take out last year and again this year. My parents hated to make me do it, but we had to eat. With my father in the mines and my mother a teacher at the rundown school that doesn't pay much, things can get rough. The day after my birthday each year, I had been sent trudging to the Justice Building to ask for grain and oil. Both times I had been stuttering so bad the women there to receive me almost didn't understand what I wanted. But we needed the food.

Flint comes bouncing back into the room, this time with Gaia in tow. I duck my head a little lower as she appears. It's always hard to look Gaia in the eye.

"Good morning, Rooker," she greets me just as their parents walk in. We all decide to head out to the Reaping, but I'm not really listening, focusing more on the dress that Gaia is wearing. It's soft yellow with a blue bow in her hair, very pretty. Most people wouldn't see it that way; Gaia has a reputation for being tough and scaring away anyone that she doesn't want to associate with. It's one of the reasons my mother asked her to look out for me during school. And although Gaia is three years older than me and sees me as her ward, I can't help but wish we were something more.

The air is solemn as we walk to the Reaping. The mornings when my father sets out with the other miners aren't particularly noisy either, but there is at least some chatter. Today everyone is deadly silent. I hug my parents goodbye before going to get my finger pricked with Gaia and Flint, shaking slightly in fear. I hate this part of the Reaping the most. Last year my finger wouldn't stop bleeding for the entire ceremony.

As I walk with Flint to our place, heads turn toward us, some looking confused as we settle in the thirteen-year old section. I get this a lot from people who don't know me; I'm incredibly tall for my age. I shake my head so that some of my brown hair covers my face a little. Having so many people watching me makes me nervous.

"I was thinking this morning about a new game we could play tonight," Flint says, clearly not worried about the gazes of the others.

"Yeah? What kind?" Flint and I loved to make up new games and play them whenever we can.

"It's a combination of a board game and obstacle course. See, it tests all of your abilities-"

"Welcome, everyone to the Seventy Seventh Reaping!" the mayor announces on the stage.

"Rude," Flint mutters under his breath, making me hold back a chuckle.

The mayor gives his usual speech with false enthusiasm. Behind him, our only living victor Haymitch Abernathy is staring at the sky. I can't tell if he's awake or just sleeping with his eyes closed. After that there is the "educational" video and the escort's introduction.  
"Happy Hunger Games!" she squeals into the mic. "Let's get right to business shall we?"

Eryn Winters (15)- D12F

"He's looking at you," Merrie teases me gleefully, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Stop it!" I whine, pulling at my dress. Merylla and Lanna giggle next to us. We're supposed to be paying attention to the Reaping, but Merrie just won't leave me alone. On the other side of the aisle, Hayle is standing, looking handsome as ever as he gazes at the stage. I'm never one to have crushes; that's more of my best friend Merrie's deal. I knew I shouldn't have told her when two days later, Merylla and her best friend Lanna already knew. They take every chance they can to tease me about it. But Hayne is just so handsome…

"Eryn Winters!"

My head snaps to the stage, open-mouthed. I feel tears start to pool in my eyes as I realize what has happened. I try to walk towards the stage, but someone's arms are tight around me.

"No, no, Eryn!" Merylla cries, her face so like but so different from mine streaked with tears.

"Let her go, Merylla," Merrie says softly, prying her hands away from me.

I shakily walk forward, ignoring Merylla's sobs, my own tears starting to fall slowly. By the time I make it to the escort, her giant pink hair so out of place here, Jylly and Daisy's old dress is soaked with tears.  
"Wonderful!" the escort, Effie, claps her hands together once. "Congratulations, Eryn! And now for the boys."

It's hard to keep it together when I have to stand there while another innocent child is sent to their death. I try to compose myself as to not look like a complete weakling in front of the cameras, but it's useless.

"Rooker Holm!"

The boy is in pretty much the same boat as me, sniveling and shaking so bad I think he might fall over. His eyes are wide and terrified, face completely red.

"And there we have our two tributes from District Twelve, Rooker Holm and Eryn Winters! Now shake hands you too!"

I lean over to take Rooker's shaking hand, which is wet from either sweat or tears, maybe both. In a flash, we're taken back into the Justice Building. Everything is happening so fast I almost can't believe it's real.

I've never been inside the Justice Building before. It's definitely the nicest place in District Twelve, and I can't imagine what the Capitol will be like. The velvet couches and ornate paintings and frames seem to be mocking me. At least I'll get to surrounded by luxury before the Games.

My family bursts into the door, all seven of them. Janah is crying despite not understanding what's happening, probably because everyone else is. I hold her gently while making sure to hug everyone else. Once I'm finished, she leans back and hands me something.

"Here, Eryn," she whispers tearfully. It's a small, smooth gray-blue stone. Janah has always loved collecting stones and other random items from the streets.

"Thank you so much," I smile through my tears. "I'll remember you whenever I look at it."

Rooker Holm (13)- D12M

My parents come first, crying heavily and enveloping me in their arms. When the Peacekeepers come, they won't let me go and have to be pulled away, their hands still grabbing for me. My mother thrusts a small brooch towards me before she's forced away, one that I immediately recognize. It was my grandmother's, then my mother's, then mine when I was old enough to pin it to myself without drawing blood. I tearfully pin it to my shirt, which is still lined with coal from the mines. I may be leaving District Twelve, but it will never leave me.

The Blooms spill in next. Flint seems to be in denial, staring at me with wide, blank eyes.

"We can play my new game when you get back, alright?" he tells me, patting me on the shoulder. I don't blame him for being awkward, it was always our thing together. It's one of the reasons we got along so well.

"Don't be stupid," Gaia tells me, reaching up to ruffle my hair, staring into my eyes. "You have to use your head and not let anything anyone says get to you. Remember?"

I nod, wiping away my tears. "I know." That's what she always told me when the bullies at school started to act up again.

They all stay near me until the Peacekeepers come to take them away. Gaia kisses me on the cheek. "Goodbye," she whispers before she pulls away.

After the door swings shut, I take a deep breath and try to stay calm. I've started to shake again at the idea of boarding that train and going to the Capitol. A few more tears roll down my cheeks. Now my fate rests in the hands of those bloodthirsty people who will decide if I live or die.

Hey guys! Finally finished with the Reapings! I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.


	15. Train Rides

Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F

I keep my face neutral as the Peacekeepers shepherd us out of the Justice Building. Photographers immediately start rushing toward us with their cameras flashing in our faces, making me frown a little in annoyance. I quickly recompose myself; I need to show that I'm not bothered by anything that the Capitol can throw at me. Those tributes always go far.

We're ushered into a vehicle, where the escort is waiting. I sit uncomfortably between her and my district partner. I don't remember his name, nor do I think it's necessary for me to know it. He'll be dead soon enough.

Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to have the same idea as me.

"Hey, I'm Pixel," he says shakily. He already looks terrified. No one in the Capitol will want to sponsor him; that's for sure.

I do my best not to roll my eyes. "Tesla."

"I already introduced you to each other onstage!" the escort says shrilly, clearly irritated that we don't remember her calling out our names.

"Oh, s-sorry," Pixel says, eyes wide.

This time, I really do roll my eyes, keeping them straight ahead as the car finally starts to move. The escort is even more difficult to look at up close, with her pupils dyed a bright pink that makes her look sick, and eyelashes as long as a centipede's legs.

Outside the car, the photographers run alongside us, still trying to get that perfect shot for the Capitol. The flashing hurts my eyes, so I close them and hope the Capitol gets a good glimpse of me sleeping on my way to the train.

Jason Sparks (18)- D6M

The interior of our train is unbelievable. After spending so long passing out food and clothing to starving children, it's a shock to see how the Capitolites live. Gourmet food covers the crystal tables, chandeliers hang from the ceiling, plush couches await us with a flat-screen TV that takes up the entire wall.

"Holy shit…" my district partner whispers. She darts to the table and picks up a crystal glass, holding it up to the light. Next her fingers itch toward the silver cutlery, but something holds her back. She turns around and scowls at me.

"What are you looking at?"  
"Nothing," I say cooly, taking a seat on the couch. I know I'm not what's holding her back; she's realized there's no use in stealing anything here. Either she wins and becomes rich beyond her wildest dreams, or she dies. There's no way to bring stolen goods back home to Six.

Our escort comes bumbling in, along with our mentors, two morphlings that look as high as the sky. The dark red rings around their eyes are easy to distinguish. They both stare right at Antonia, who is now caressing the thick blankets that decorate the couches. I know why; I know who she is, and it concerns me. If the morphlings are close to her, they will likely devote much of their attention to her. No one will want to help a Peacekeeper win.

I retire to the window and stare out as District Six starts to fly past. The buildings whoosh past us faster and faster until everything seems to melt away. I sigh and sit at the chair closest to em, wondering if I'll ever get to see it again.

Suddenly there's a familiar sounding bark from somewhere inside the train. I lift my head up and look around intently, but no one else seems to hear it. Great. If I'm going insane already, the mentors will take even less interest in me.

Grizelda "Zel" Weaver (18)- D9F

My district partner is quiet. I expected him to be raging and screaming like his sister when he was Reaped, but instead he's enitrely silent, no evidence of tears on his cheeks. When we enter our train, he stares blankly at the luxurious interior, then suddenly disappears through the door on the opposite wall. I take a deep breath, keeping myself back. It's not his fault, but this child will have to die so that mine can live. It's just as simple as that, and I can't risk getting attached.

"Oh, Grizelda!" the escort calls to me from the television. "Don't you want to come see your competition?"

"Call me Zel," I say. "I'm going to sleep."

With that, I follow my district partner into the next car. It's another leisurely room filled with velveted furniture, but after that come our bedrooms. I ignore the first one, whose door is labeled with an "Albert Anderson", and proceed to my own.

Inside is the largest bed I've ever seen, piled with comforters and even a draw-around curtain for privacy. I have my own TV and bathroom, and a large window that shows the fields of grain passing outside. I rush to it and press my hands to the glass, hoping I'll fall right through and escape. Tears fill my eyes. I press a little too hard on the glass and the image changes suddenly, to a surreal forest with sun shining through the canopy.

"No, no, wait!" I try to press it again with my fingers, but the screen only displays more fake scenes of nature. First a beach, then a desert, then a frozen pine forest. I fall to my knees against the glass, hoping I hadn't squandered my last chance to see District Nine.

Eryn Winters (15)- D12F

The escort convinces us to sit and watch the Reapings, which actually is somewhat comforting. This is what everyone does after the ceremony back in Twelve with their families. Everyone sits down and watches because they have to, eager for it to be over so that they can dig in to the food they have prepared.

Today is no different. Rooker and I are constantly looking back at the table where our meal is being prepared. The aroma of freshly baked bread and sugary fruit wafts over to us with every breeze, making my stomach growl. It seems like forever since breakfast.

Unfortunately, watching the Reapings on this screen doesn't hold quite the same connotation as they did in the candy shop's kitchen. These are my competitors. I quietly watch each of their reactions as they climb the stage. The Careers are as confident and refined as ever, though there is a slight problem in One when a boy is Reaped without any volunteers.

"What happened to the Career?" Rooker asks, eyes wide.

"He is the Career," I say matter-of-factly. It's pretty obvious with the way he introduced himself and the way he glares at the crowd.

"Oh…"

Poor boy, I think. He hardly stands a chance at thirteen years old. If this was any other situation, I might have liked him. He reminds me a little of Dussie, who is his age and always needs me to clarify things for her. But now I can't afford to get close to him. He's too young to make a valuable ally.

I bring my knees to my chest when the second twelve-year old from Eight is Reaped. Watching their tiny faces makes me realize just what I will have to do to survive. I glance at Rooker again. Am I capable of killing people like that?

I must.

Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M

I laugh hysterically as the boy from Eleven knocks the Reaping bowl off the stage. His whole first impression had been a disaster… falling and then getting angry enough to destroy Capitol property? Everyone would either hate him or love him, and those polarizing tributes never went far. The victor had to be at least liked by all.

"Oh my god," I gasp, wiping tears from my eyes. "That was a good one."

Tiffany's arms are crossed, her piercing blue eyes fixed on me. "You shouldn't laugh. That was incredibly rude."

"Me laughing or that idiot knocking over the Reaping bowl?"

"Both!" she snaps, making me snigger. I can practically see the hair standing on her neck, like a bristling cat. She's been on edge since the girl from Nine was Reaped, a large pregnant woman that had shrieked like a banshee when her name was called. Tiffany had gasped like it was an atrocity that she should be allowed to compete.

"Pregnant girls should be exempt," she had hissed at me after I snorted at her reaction.

"Are you kidding?" I had asked her incredulously. "If they were exempt, every girl in Panem would be getting pregnant just to avoid the Games. Then there would be overpopulation in the outer districts, where people can barely eat in the first place. Is that what you want?"

Tiffany was silent, watching the terrified boy get Reaped. She does the same thing now, turning away, apparently deciding I'm not worth the trouble. She rewinds the Reapings. I'm guessing she wants to really size-up her competition, which is a good strategy that I should probably be following as well, but I can't stand being around her any longer. She's fun to mess with, but she's not afraid of me like most of the kids that we trained with at the Academy. Instead she just yells right back and then ignores me.

There will be plenty of time to acquaint myself with the competition later. I head to the table, where the Avoxes are almost finished preparing our food. My mouth waters when I see a whole lobster ready for me to devour. I need a pick-me-up after that debacle at my Reaping. I've been dreaming of the moment I would volunteer ever since I was a little kid, and our stupid escort took that away from me by picking my name. I resolve to ignore him for the entire coming week before the Games. I don't need anyone but myself to win these Games. Even Tiffany will be gone soon enough.

Caleb Odalric (18)- D5M

My father has always provided for my family, but never to this extent. The food that covers our ornate wooden table seems to good to be true. Surely people in the Capitol don't eat like this all the time.

"Oh, no, my dear," our escort shakes her head when I ask. "This is the height of luxury, darlings. Only the richest and most honored have meals like this."

It's hard to think of myself as being honored for heading to my death, but I'll take it at the moment. I remember how Nina had said in her interview with Flickerman that she loved the food in the Capitol, and now I realize why. I feel closer to her than ever as I dig in to my roasted pig that's glazed in honey.

A woman dressed in all red serves us our drinks, and even picks up a napkin for one of our mentor's after he drops it. I try to ignore her presence and focus on the food, not talking to anyone as the escort and our mentors converse cheerfully. I assume the chipperness from our mentors is somewhat forced, but maybe not. Neither of them have permanent injuries from their Games, and if they get to eat like this during every Hunger Games season, they probably don't have much to complain about. I carefully eye Brunswick as he chats animatedly with the escort. He's our only male victor who's still alive, and won when he was only fifteen by avoiding the other tributes as much as possible. With only a knife to protect himself and a bow and arrow to catch food, he had ended up killing only two tributes and winning the Games. Doesn't sound like such a terrible strategy to me.

As my district partner, a quiet girl named Amelia, reaches forward to grab the pitcher of rich grape juice, her hand knocks over her own glass and spills the juice all over the plush white carpet. I jump away and hear the escort shriek loudly, "How could you? This carpet costs more than everything else in this room combined!"

Amelia blushes a dark red, getting out of her seat as the red woman bends down to clean up the mess. She doesn't meet anyone's eyes as she tries to help the woman, but even this elicits a reproach from our escort.

"Stop that, Amelia!" she snaps. "That's the Avox's job, not yours. Just be more careful next time."

Amelia stands back up without a word and sits back down. She doesn't try to apologize or even look at anyone. In fact, I don't think she's said a word to me all day. It's strange, but maybe she just doesn't want to get close to anyone. I return to my meal with gusto. I shouldn't be getting acquainted with anyone either.

Sock Northsilk (12)- D8F

I'm used to luxury, but nothing like this. The food is exquisite, and the furnishings are nothing like I've ever seen. My bedroom is completely covered in softness, from the plush carpet to the comforters that are piled on the bed. Even the curtains in front of the window are soft. I run my hands over them as I look around. I like the effort, but there are far too few plushies. The only one I have now is Sir Hoot, still in my arms. I haven't let go of him all day.

I feel stuffed from our first Capitol meal, and normally I would be ready for bed, but surprisingly I don't feel tired at all. Instead I feel jumpy, my eyes constantly filling with tears from too many emotions at once, but not just from fear. I'm determined to win this and show everyone what I'm capable of.

I'm not a princess, I'm a warrior. I remind myself firmly as I set Sir Hoot onto the bed and head to the bathroom. I'm a warrior. I can leave Sir Hoot alone while I take a shower.

The bathroom is huge, bigger than my bedroom at home, which is already large by Eight standards. The shower itself takes up about half the room, with a large sink and mirror closest to me. I lean down and open one of the cupboards underneath the sink to reveal an enormous array of makeup and hair-care products, evidently for our own use. I rush back into the bedroom and open the closet, overjoyed that there is also a supply of amazing clothes for me to wear. I pick out a gray dress and check the size. It's not my exact size, but it will probably fit me. They must have several kinds of wardrobes depending on a tribute's body type that are ready to be implemented after the Reaping.

Underneath the size, the dress' tag says Handcrafted in District Eight! And the name of my family's competitor manufacturers. I look down at my own dress, pink and princess like. This can't be what I show the Capitol. I quickly take it off and stuff it into the closet. I probably won't see it again, but I don't care. I take the gray dress into the bathroom and prepare to shower.

The actual showering is more complicated than I imagined, involving hundreds of buttons and settings, but afterwards I feel so much better. I use the hairdryer and spray under the sink to give myself smooth, flowing locks that go past my shoulders. I look much more adult like this, more like a tribute. I know the older tributes won't take me seriously, but I can at least try.

Still not tired, I explore the rest of the train, creeping past Tag's room and back into the leisure car. I'm surprised to see that Tag is there as well, staring at the television.

"What are you doing?" I ask suspiciously.

He jumps up, then gives me a sly smile. "Nothing."

I glance at the screen. He's watching the Reapings again, of course. "Looks like we both had the same idea," I lie easily, sitting down next to him on the couch. We watch together in silence. When our own reaping comes along, I can't help but wonder what changed in the past couple of hours in my district partner. Onstage, he was sniffling and frightened like me, and now he's sizing up the competition. I guess I shouldn't judge him, though… such a change has happened in me as well.

Tomas Fields (15)- D11M

The escort is both afraid of me and angry with me, I can tell. He avoids even looking at me for most of the evening, directing all comments toward Marjorem, or "Jo" as she gently corrected him. What's more is our mentor Seeder is clearly biased towards her as well; my worst fear is already coming true. The Capitol girl is getting all the attention while I fall to the back, unnoticed. It's maddening, but maybe if I can slip past everyone's radar, I'll surprise them and win. It's not an unheard of strategy.

As Seeder and Jo chat in the leisure car about their angle for the Capitolites, I quietly head to the bedroom they've given to me. I don't want to sleep, but it might be the only thing I have to cope. I know I shouldn't have knocked that ball off of the podium, but the Capitol deserved it for sending us to die.

I sit on my bed and roll the black pearl my mother gave me in my palm. A gift from my father, she'd said. The only thing I have of his. I know that he was originally from Four, but that's it. I wonder if he's a Hunger Games enthusiast. All of the brutes from Four seem to be. The Careers from Four this year seem particularly nasty; the guy is blind in one eye and yet he still volunteered for this?! I can't imagine being so thirsty for blood.

I decide to go to sleep, changing out of my clothes until I'm wearing just my underwear. I don't bother putting anything else on, just crawling under the covers and closing my eyes. I keep the black pearl close to my chest, listening to the sounds of the train moving steadily onward...

Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M

"Why did you do it?"

Rufina ignores me, her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her. As the guy from Six mounts the stage, she scribbles something into her notepad.

"You think he's hot or something?"

She doesn't respond, but rolls her eyes in annoyance.

"The Hunger Games aren't the best place to hook up, you know."

"I don't want to hook up with anyone," Rufina finally snaps, turning to look at me. The expression in her eyes cements my opinion of her as a worthy Career. She was always great in training, but her sister Drusa was a better with weapons, better at running. But we both know that's not what wins the Hunger Games. It's the determination, the ferocity, the bloodlust.

"He looks like a competitor, doesn't he?" Rufina continues, nodding towards the screen. The guy does look buff, but I can tell he doesn't have what it takes.

"Working out isn't the same thing as training."  
"He doesn't look like he just works out, Hadrian," Rufina says impatiently. "Look at him. He's been in combat training, for sure."

I squint at the screen. "I guess you're right…"  
"Of course I am." Rufina goes back to her notes. It's a little exasperating. After our first watch-through, I could tell who is going to be a problem and who won't, and even if I'm wrong, I'll gather more information as the week progresses. There's not much we can tell from these few shots of each tribute right after their Reaping, while they're in shock.

Whatever. If Rufina wants to spend her time on a pointless endeavor, so be it. I plop another grape into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

"You didn't answer my first question."

"And here I was, thinking you were going to be quiet for ten seconds," Rufina says sarcastically, finally turning off the TV and turning to face me, placing her elbows on her knees like a little kid. "Yes, Hadrian? I am at your service."

"Shut up," I say contemptuously, shoving another handful of grapes into my mouth. "I was just asking why you volunteered instead of your sister. Having an argument with her or something?"

"No, we decided it together," she says defensively. "She didn't want to leave home, and I always wanted to prove myself."  
"Hmm." Drusa was talented, sure, but someone unwilling to compete is someone unable. "Fine. I accept you as my partner."

"Thank God," Rufina rolls her eyes again, getting back to the Reapings. I sigh and eat the last of my grapes before moving on to the cheese.

Willow Whitebeam (17)- D7F

The Careers are just as I expected them to be, their eyes filled with resolve, their bodies held confidently. The girl from One seems a little ditsy if you ask me, but her training will make her a formidable opponent.

"That guy's half blind," Seb remarks as the boy from Four introduces himself.

"But look at the way he's acting," I say, pointing to his arms. "Not tense at all. He's completely at ease."

"That could be a drawback, though," Seb says lowly, obviously wanting the last word. "Overly confident people never win."

"What about Cato? Or Celia? The Two tributes are always arrogant and look how they've been doing."

Seb looks up at me from under his light blonde hair, blue eyes piercing into me. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"I'm just saying that it can get you killed."

I snort, returning back to the screen, where the tributes from Five are mounting the stage. The boy seems somewhat confident, but his fear is given away in his eyes. He looks like he isn't quite here, like he's thinking about something else. The girl looks terrified. No one seems like a great ally so far, least of all my district partner.

"What? You think that's funny?" he demands.

I feel the back of my neck start to bristle. "You're one to talk about arrogance! Just half an hour ago you were telling our lovely escort that you think you can win over the Capitol by playing the guitar during your interview."  
"I just said it was an idea!" he shouts, taking to his feet.

"Whatever, Seb. What kind of name is that? You trying to sound cool?"  
"Not cooler than, Oh I just live on my own with my friend, we do whatever we want and party all night," he mimicked my explanation of my life that I had given earlier to the mentors.

"Partying? What the hell are you talking about!? You don't know anything about survival!"

"I know more than you!" he shot back immediately

"Oh, I bet you do. Living with your girlfriend and her family in a nice cushy home. You must know all about survival."

"More than you," he sneers at me. Apparently ashamed for repeating the same comeback, he storms out of the room. The locket he wears around his neck swings back and forth. I contemplate stealing while he sleeps; it looks so stupid on him anyway, and I'm pretty sure it's for women. My blood is boiling, but I stay seated at the couch for a while longer to prevent myself from doing something rash. After watching the pregnant lady from Nine climb the stage, I'm not so angry at Shitty Seb anymore. The Capitol is the one that deserves my hate, the ones that put us into this situation in the first place.

Besides, I can tell Seb is faking his shitty cocky persona. He does live with his girlfriend's family, not his. Maybe I wasn't the only one who wasn't wanted as a child.

Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F

The train is too quiet to sleep. If I listen really closely I can hear the train itself moving over the tracks, but that's it. There's no mooing and baying of animals, no shouts from ranchers and drunken men out late at night, nothing. I miss Amber's distinctive whinny. I reach into my pocket and pull out the horsehair charm that Buck gave to me, made from her hair. At least I'll get to bring her with me into the arena. I rub the charm between my fingers pensively. It feels just like her.

There's a knock on my door and cuts through the silence like a knife. I sit up in my bed suddenly, heart racing. "Who is it?"

"It's me."

I sigh and lay back onto the bed. "Come in."  
My district partner, a tiny boy with ginger hair and white skin that betrays he's never been in the fields, peers into my room. "Hey."  
"What is it?" I ask somewhat impatiently.

"It's just…" he shuffles his feet. "I can't sleep."

"Oh. Me neither."

"Really?" he steps in, walking over to the bed. "Honestly, I thought you would be asleep and wouldn't hear me."

"Nope. It's too quiet, isn't it?"

"Yeah. That's why I changed the window setting."  
I raise an eyebrow at him. "The what?"

"You don't know? Look."

He strides over to my large window, which is nearly pitch black with what are clearly the silhouettes of passing trees. Who knows where we are right now. The escort said the train traveled up to 250 miles per hour. We'd be in the Capitol by morning.

Denver touches the glass lightly with his fingertip. The window immediately changes into a snowy hillside, alive with the sounds of wolves howling and squirrels racing through the snow-ridden pines.

"Whoa," I breathe. "That's incredible."

Another touch and we're back in Ten, or something that could be Ten. The large, open field reminds me a lot of the pastures that we use to feed our animals. Along with it comes the sounds of wind rustling the grass, birds chirping in the distance, a sky full of stars twinkling above it.

"Wow, thank you, Denver."  
"You're welcome," he says with a smile. Maybe I was too quick to judge him as a townie. He's only thirteen, after all, and he told me he loves animals during dinner. And he seems smart.

"Do you want to hop in?" I ask, holding the covers up for him.

"Oh, thanks!"

It's been a long time since I shared the bed with someone, but it's nice. Denver is careful not to get too close to me, both of us turned to watch the fake field that's been provided for us. I hope we'll be able to see a real one again soon.

Andrew "Drew" de Luce (18)- D4M

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the smell of luxury. It's a very distinct smell, like leather and fake fur and usually impersonality. It smells like the boats my parents design and build. I snuggle the toy moose Fiona gave me closer to my chest. There's a strange pulsing feeling in the middle of my forehead, where my original token, my fancy ring, had hit me in the forehead when Fiona had threw it at me. I sigh at the thought of my terrible, wonderful sister and sit up, rubbing at my eyes.

I open them and see nothing. Strange. I blink a couple of times. Am I dreaming?

I close my eyes tightly again and lay down. I open them. I should see my ceiling, but it's like I never even opened them. My left eye has been like this for years now, i'm quite familiar with blindness. But my right one has never failed me.

You can see. I tell myself firmly. Just open your eyes. You're just not opening them right.

I open them again, panic starting to set it as I realize I still can't see. Some sort of strange sound leaves my throat. I reach out for Fiona's moose and hug it tightly to my chest, letting out choked noises.

This can't be happening. The doctors said there was practically no chance of the cataracts moving to the right eye! Let alone so quickly. This has to be a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

"Drew!" I hear Nikki pounding on the door for me. "We're in the Capitol! Wake up, will you!"

My breathing is coming out too quickly. I feel like my vision is swimming even though I can't see. I can't see. I can't see.

"Drew?"

"Just hold on!" I choke out, sitting up again. I shakily get to my feet, clutching the moose tightly,my other hand outstretched in front of me. I walk into the bedpost, hurting my knee and making me wince, but eventually my hand hits the door. I open it without much issue and hesitantly step out.

"Nikki?"

She must not be here. I continue on my path down the hallway, using my limited memory of the layout. I still bump into nearly everything, including a person who squeaks indignantly but doesn't say anything. An Avox. I think miserably. Now I'm running into Avoxes.

"Nikki!" I call out again, hoping she's somewhere nearby. The train is getting louder and louder, freaking me out even more. Suddenly there is a large whoosh of air followed by shouts and applause. The Capitol. We've arrived.

"Drew, what the hell are you doing?"

I make another strange noise as Nikki pulls me over to what I assume is the window, for all of the Capitol to see.

After a few moments, she asks, "What is up with you? I thought you've always wanted to see the Capitol."

"I did," I say miserably.

The Capitol has doctors that will fix you. I tell myself But I still feel panic rise in my throat.

Hey everyone! Here's our first chapter where the tributes are interacting and reacting to each other. It was so much fun to write!  
There are only two more weeks this semester, but they're the busiest of the year. I hope I'll be able to get one chapter per week up for you guys to read. The next chapter will be at the Remake Center and the Parade, and the one after that will be at the Training Center.

Please review/follow/favorite if you enjoyed reading! Thank you guys so much.


	16. Tribute Parade

**Hey everyone! Before the chapter starts I just wanted to tell you about something that's been annoying me about . I'm sure some of you have noticed that some of the chapters don't have italics and bolded text where it's supposed to be. For some reason it's sometimes changed to normal text when I publish the chapter. Even if I try to go back and fix it, it doesn't work. Not only is it super annoying, but it also makes the chapter harder to read. I don't know if anyone has had similar problems, but I'm sorry about it. Anyway, here's the Tribute Parade!**

 _Rufina Fastolf (18)- D2F_

The Capitol is even more beautiful than they say, glittering and stylish and loud. It's so loud and Hadrian and I wave to our fans at the train station. Their outfits are similar to what we see on TV, but it's more overwhelming when the Capitolites are only a window away from us. I wonder which of them will be sending me a package to help me kill my final opponent in the Games.

I glance at Hadrian, who is clearly enjoying himself beside me. I wonder if he will be my last kill. His proficiency with weapons is well-known in Two, and his brother Cassius has certainly given him some advice. Moreover, our ally in Four, Nicolette Anderson, is the daughter of two victors. My competition in the Career pack can't be understated.

The train eventually speeds up again and our cooing crowd disappears.

"That was fun," Hadrian says with a grin. For once he doesn't look cocky or terrifying, but genuinely happy.

"Yeah, but we're not here to have fun," I remind him.

He frowns at me. "I'm not a child. You'll see that in the arena." He turns on his heel and walks away from the window, back to his room.

I sigh and stare at the wall of the train tunnel that flies past us.

"We'll be at the Remake Center soon."

I turn and see Celia, victor of last year's Games. She's been mostly silent for this trip, talking with Cato, who Hadrian hasn't been warming up to well. They liked each other enough before Cato went into his own Games, but now he wishes Cassius could be his mentor, I can tell.

"Good," I say. "Honestly, I'm ready for the interviews. I want to show everyone how serious I am about this."

"That's good, but don't get ahead of yourself. Try to make the most out of every opportunity they give you. The parade is important too. And as for being serioius…" Celia puts a hand on my shoulder. "You're not the serious brooding type, I can tell. Being yourself will get you more sponsors than anything else."

That hurts a little. "I know I make jokes a lot, but I can be intelligent and cunning. I want the Capitol to know that."

"They already do," Celia says, her piercing gray eyes staring into mine. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't. They want to see what makes you special. The Parade is one of the first chances you have to do it, so don't waste it."

 _Denver O'Casey (14)- D10M_

The Remake Center is possibly the largest building I've ever been in. The only comparison I can think of is the large meat-packing plant in Ten, but that must be only a third of the size of this place. And, I realize with a jolt. This is only the Remake Center. Across the City Circle is the Training Center and our apartments, where we'll live in luxury until the Games.

My prep team is chattering above me, hardly seeming interested in me at all. First they dunk me in a bath of fizzling water that practically burns my skin, then scrub me all over until I have no hair anywhere than on my head. I feel uncomfortable being stripped naked in front of three adult women, but none of them seem to see me as a human. They talk about me as if i'm not even there.

"His hair is too long," one comments, sharpening a pair of formidable looking scissors. "It's a nice color, but it needs to be shorter so we can style it."

The others chirp their assent and get back to clipping and cleaning my toenails. It's incredibly painful, and I have to grit my teeth each time she digs into the side of my nail. At least the hair-cutting doesn't hurt.

I can hear Filly receiving a similar treatment in the next room, though her team is having a conversation with her. I can't make it what they're saying, but I can hear her voice.

"What's the plan for my outfit?" I ask timidly.

All of the preppers stop and stare at me like I've said I hate the Capitol. The woman at my head has had her eyes dyed to look like a cat's, and it's terrifying. I can only hope they won't do something like that to me.

"The Parade outfits are made by your stylist. He'll be here soon."

"Oh." I think back on past costumes from Ten. Last year's tributes had been dressed as exaggerated ranchers in cowboy hats and chaps. It was clear that the stylists knew nothing about Ten.

"Do you want a look?" the prepper asks.

I look up in surprise. "Yes, thank you."

As the other two women rub a green cream on my legs, she brings me a large hand mirror. "What do you think?"  
My mop of ginger curls has been shaved on the sides and treated so that it's straighter. The color almost shines in the harsh light of the Remake Center.

"It's… different."

"Yep. And now for the glasses. You want the surgery?"

"I'm sorry?"

"If you want, we can give you surgery to fix your eyesight. It will only take a minute."

"Oh, no thank you," I say quickly, anxiety making my heart beat faster. "I like my glasses."

"They might hold you back," one of women at feet chips in. The other prepper is now giving my fingernails the same painful treatment.

"I know. But I'll be careful not to break them."

"What? I meant they might not work with your outfits," she says with a frown. "Your stylist will have to work around them, and they're not very fashionable, let me tell you. Reminds me of that horrible trend a couple years ago when people wore those kinds of glasses. So ugly!"

The other preppers make affirming mmhmm noises. There's a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I realize who I'm talking to; just Capitolites who don't give a second thought about our deaths.

 _Amelia Waltraud (16)- D5F_

I sit and wait, completely naked, for my stylist to arrive. My entire body is stinging from the scrub that my prep team rubbed all over me. I feel like a bird that's been plucked and is waiting to be roasted.

The door to my room opens and reveals a man who is dressed in a bright sky-blue suit with matching spiky hair that has streaks of white. His skin is marked with decorative scars on his cheeks that make him look like a torture victim. His smile looks terrifying, his teeth unnaturally white.

"Hello, my dear," he croons. "How excited are you? You're going to be the talk of the town."

"I h-hope s-so," I manage to say. I'm not used to speaking my mind often, except with Elanor, and this will be no different. As much as I want to tell this freakish man that I don't care about looking nice, I keep the words of my mentor in my brain: The tribute parade is your first appearance as a product. Make sure that product sells.

"You know, you and your partner look alike," he says, eyebrows furrowing. They look like small white mammals on his face. "Does everyone in Five have the same distant ancestor?"

My adrenaline spikes immediately. "N-no, I don't think so." Not able to come up with anything more, I leave it at that.

My stylist doesn't seem to mind, flipping through a binder that he brought in with him. "Well, maybe it's just a coincidence. I'm new to Five, so I still have a lot to learn about it. At least the two of you are somewhat attractive as you are. The noses are a little too long, but that's nothing some surgery can't fix if you win. What's more is it might become your signature. Victors always set surgery trends."

I don't understand half of what he's saying, but nod along anyway, slightly repulsed. I try not to think about Caleb as the stylist inspects my body. He seems nice, as nice as one can be when they're about to fight to their death against you, and quiet like me. I feel bad for keeping secrets from him.

Soon after my body is thoroughly poked and prodded, a large plastic suit is brought in by my prep team.

"Are you ready?" the stylist asks me, excitement apparent on his heavily altered face.

"I was born ready," I say with a sudden burst of confidence.

I can't say I'm not a little eager to see my costume. The prep team puts in on me, all chattering excitedly in that high-pitched accent of theirs. The black suit fits snugly around my body, leaving nothing to the imagination. It's a little embarrassing to say the least, especially when I remember I'm going to be literally paraded around before the entire nation. Around the lines of my body are strange wires that I don't think are visible from far away. I'm starting to question my stylist's sanity.

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

After my ridiculous costume is fitted to my body, my stylist takes me out to the front of the Remake Center, where Willow and the other tributes are waiting. I try to ignore all of them, despite the thick tension in the room. All twenty-four of us are now in the same room for the first time. I try to look as formidable as possible while avoiding all eyes.

"Hey," Willow says as I lumber over. I huff and ignore her while our stylists squeal over how amazing we look. I'm not fooled I know we look awful. Horrific. The horrible tree outfit makes my blood boil. That combined with having to stand next to Willow during the Parade makes me wish the Games had already started and I was killed in the bloodbath.

Unfortunately, Willow doesn't get the hint. "We look terrible."

I glance up at her. I wonder if she remembers our argument at all. She has a strange, unpredictable way of interacting with people. One minute she's yelling at our mentor, Johanna Mason, the next she's laughing with her over caviar.

"Yeah. I don't know what those idiots are thinking," I say under my breath, resisting the urge to rip off the fake branches on my shoulders. The paint job certainly took long enough to look "surreally realistic", whatever that means, but who cares? We're still the same lousy trees that Seven gets stuck with every year. One of the horses we're assigned to whinnies next to us. I sigh as I look up at the chariot we'll be standing. How are we going to climb up there without all of our branches falling off?

"We always get the worst costumes," Willow comments, her eyes scanning the crowd. I look around for the first time and realize she's right. There are some tragic outfits like ours, but most are at least somewhat sane.

"You're right," I say slowly. If Willow is expecting an apology, I'm not willing to give one. I was in the right, I know it. Although I can't exactly recall what our argument was about…

"Whatever, these stupid outfits don't count. We just need to look strong and confident no matter what they put us in. You can do that, can't you?"

I raise an eyebrow at her. It probably doesn't look as intimidating with my ridiculously styled hair. "I can do that, yes. You're the one that called me arrogant."

The corner of her lips twitches. "That's the spirit."\

"We should rebel," I say. "Tear all this off in front of the Capitol and just be out there naked."

"That sounds even worse. We're sticking to my plan."

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_

Today is not going as planned. Of course, if I had my own way, I wouldn't be here at all, but I can thank my parents for that.

Drew is still not here, for some reason that probably has to do with his sight. As I glance around the Remake Center at all the tributes, I silently fume at everyone involved in these Games. My parents, Drew, who was stupid enough to volunteer with sight problems, and my stylist, who has fitted me into this awful seahorse suit. I look absolutely ridiculous, not at all like the deadly, sexy woman that I'm going to show in my interview. The stylist said it is revolutionary and never seen before, a true "step ahead of its time". When I said I hated it, he told me he wasn't surprised I didn't understand it. I didn't have the right Capitol eye. I can tell the two of us are not going to get along well.

The tributes from Two are standing by their respective chariots, looking gorgeous in costumes somewhere between Roman gladiator and royalty, with delicate crowns on their heads that look reminiscent of the victor's crown. The cheering from outside the Center adds to the image of two gladiators about to fight for their lives.

Just then, the Careers from One arrive, drawing everyone's attention to them. Their bodies are adorned in tiny little jewels and nothing else, only enough to cover the indistreet parts and a few elsewhere. Tiger is covered in emeralds, true to his last name, and Tiffany in diamonds with a sapphire necklace. They look exactly what a Career should look like for the Parade; not like a bumbling seahorse.

As I sit and stew about my predicament, Drew finally comes out with his stylist. I quickly glance around to see if anyone has noticed anything. All of the tributes are watching; the Careers to size up their ally, and the others their enemy. But Drew is walking straight, with seemingly no problem. The escort told us that Capitolites are starting to suspect something from his arrival at the train station. Some were chalking up his awkward behavior to nerves, while others were convinced that his vision was worse than he let on at the Reaping. Regardless, she had said that our main goal now was to hide his blindness from others.

"How did it go?" I ask him lowly. He doesn't stop walking, seeming confused, and gently runs into one of our horses. The horse whinnies in protest. Drew hurries over to the sound of my voice and I grab him by the shoulders.

"Not well, I take it."

"They say the surgery will take too long to do before the Parade," Drew hisses, obviously upset.

"Well, that's just a couple of hours. You can pretend to see during the Parade, and then afterward no one will even know what happened.

"That's not all," Drew says angrily. The seahorse costume makes it hard to take him seriously, but I do my best. "Because all of this happened naturally, before we arrived at the Capitol, they're not sure if they can do it. They say it would be cheating."

"Well, you're not the first disabled tribute," I say matter-of-factly.

"This is serious!" he practically yells, drawing more attention to us than necessary.

"Whoa, let's keep it down-"

"Do you understand what this means? I might have to go into the arena blind! Blind!"

I grab him by the cheeks and move his face closer to mine, ignoring his whines of pain. "Less competition for me, blind boy."

 _Pixel Mackaby (15)- D3M_

"Everyone, we head out in two minutes!"

I take a shaky breath, feeling my entire body shake. In two minutes, I will be displayed in front of the rest of Panem in a strange, ugly costume. Beside me, Tesla is completely still and expressionless. I try to emulate her emotionless demeanor, drawing in deep breaths.

I stare down at my outfit, composed of colorful wires trailing all over my body, bunched up in different placing to resemble clothes. I've never word anything aside from my school uniform and crappy second-hand clothes, but I can tell this isn't exactly fashionable. Tesla doesn't seem to care much, however. When I asked her what she thought about it, she answered with a curt, "gets the point across."

I notice that the tributes from Five are wearing black body suits that are lined with brightly colored lights. That could easily have been our costume, I think jealously as I watch them load into their chariot.

I can hear the screaming of the crowd from outside the Remake Center, the light voices of the people around us, the horses whinnying. One of our midnight black horses throws its head back, snorting impatiently. I can only hope it knows its course and doesn't start bucking wildly from all the noise. It's never happened before, but leave it to happen to me for the very first time.

I adjust the wire that are draped over my arms, feeling them stick to my sweaty skin. Nerves and fluorescent lighting are making me perspire excessively, probably ruining the makeup that the prep team has painted onto me.

"H-how do you f-feel?" I ask Tesla, trying to keep my expression as neutral as possible.

She glances at me. "I feel nothing. You should try it. The Capitol is intrigued by people who feel nothing."

The blunt answer sends me reeling. I haven't quite recovered by the time the door to the Center opens, and in pours a cacophony of sound. The horses start moving and the chariot lurches forward, pulling us out onto the avenue. The bright lights and screams of thousands of people make my head spin. I feel like I should cover my body from the eyes that are fixed on me, but I don't want to mess up the wires and reveal more.

The sheer amount of people is making me feel dizzy, like I might fall off of the chariot. I keep one hand firmly on the door of my chariot, staring up at the crowd. Our mentors said to smile and try to seem approachable, so I lift my other hand slowly and wave. I glance in front of the chariot. We're not even a third of the way to the Training Center. I suddenly feel faint, my vision starting to go white. My ears start to buzz, but I try to block it out. It's only a little while longer before we can get off these chariots and go to sleep. Even though I just woke up four or five hours ago, I'm suddenly feeling very sleepy...

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

My costume is both hot and itchy, and I have to resist the urge to rip it off myself. I know that keeping a good image during the parade is important to the sponsors; they don't want to sponsor a tribute that isn't popular. But quite honestly, I'm not sure if it's possible to impress anyone in this mitten costume. Out of all the outfits that Eight has been stuck with, this has to be the worst.

Sock has been given a similar costume, though hers is a purplish color as opposed to my blue-gray, and slightly more fitted at the waist. My right arm and her left protrude from a giant thumb hole, our heads sticking out between the other fingers. I imagine we're the laughingstock of the country right now.

Sock's jaw is set in determination, waving at the crowd with her thumb-arm. I feel sweat slide down my back. I try to paste a grin to my face and wave the best I can. I hear various names being shouted, roses and fake victor crowns thrown at us as we pass. It's incredibly loud, and much slower than it looks on TV. It seems like we've being doing this for an eternity; the stands of people seem to be passing incredibly slowly. I listen closely to the names that are being shouted, disappointed that I don't hear my brother's in the jumble. I can clearly make out the Career's names several times, and a few of the others; even Sock receives some rose thrown her way, but no one seems to notice me. I silently fume while forcing myself to seem excited and starstruck, cursing my Tag for being so boring on-stage. But i'll change their minds in a few days. They'll see.

I glance behind us at the Nine tributes. They look ridiculous but somewhat presentable in stalks of wheat and prairie grass glued to their bodies, with a giant pink flower blooming over the girl's stomach. The grass crowns on their head look like a victor's crown from the distance. Ahead of us, the tributes from Seven are dressed in the usual tree costumes. The guy isn't waving at all, staring at the crowd with his hands balled into fists. I can't tell if it's from nerves or anger. The girl, however, is drinking in the attention, bowing to the crowd and even blowing kisses at them. Shouts of her name start to increase in volume and intensity, trinkets being thrown her way. It's clear to see who an outer-district favorite will be this year.

I try to loosen my face muscles and force a laugh, trying to seem overwhelmed with happiness. It's hard to see with the fingers around my face, so I do my best to show glee and excitement in case the cameras pick it up. I need these cheap points with the sponsors.

As our horses pluck onward, the Training Center comes into view. It's taller than any of the other buildings and even the giant stands, looming over us like the promise of death. I can't help but feel real awe in its presence. I can only hope it shows on my face.

 _Albert "Triple A" Anderson (13)- D9M_

I think I'm doing pretty well in keeping it together for the Parade. I've decided I want to show how calm and collected I can be to the Capitol. Plenty of people like the bloodthirsty, raging tributes, but the smart sponsors must know that it's the intelligent ones that go far. Even though I'm only thirteen, I know I can win this. I just need to show them my "forest" side. Ellie always says that I'm nearly a different person in the woods. The voices of the forest calm me and keep my head on my shoulders. Maybe the arena will have a lot of trees. The thought puts a genuine smile on my face as I wave easily to the crowd.

Beside me, Zel is pulling out all the stops she has. She cups her belly with one hand and waves to the crowd with the other, ignoring me completely. I know she doesn't think I'm worth allying with. She might have well said it out loud. I can't say I blame her; I know we're all just trying to get through this; but she underestimates me. She may have her baby giving her extra fans, but I'll have an actual chance of winning.

The chariots gradually slow to a halt, which takes me by surprise. I blink rapidly a couple of times, trying to get used to non-movement again. Our chariot, as the ninth, is on the outward part of the circle, giving us a good look at everyone else and the gifts that are still being thrown to us. At the other end of the semi-circle, I notice the twelve chariot is looking surprisingly adequate, with a coal-inspired outfit made of of flowy material that blows behind them in the wind. The girl is wearing a diadem, her large hazel eyes staring up at the building.

A man appears on the balcony of the tall Training Center, easily recognizable by his white beard and short stature. I never thought I would see President Snow in real life. It honestly feels like a nightmare.

The crowd immediately quiets, whether prompted or simply eager for the speech, I don't know. Snow opens his mouth and the familiar voice echoes over the streets of the Capitol.

"Happy Hunger Games, my fellow citizens. During this most joyous season, we must remember the events that led to this occasion. War, death, victory. These are all recreated in the Hunger Games so that the sacrifice of our brave Capitol soldiers must never be forgotten. And our dear tributes, twenty-three of whom will give their life to their country- well, may the odds be ever in your favor."

He disappears from the balcony as mysteriously as he had come, leaving in his wake uproarious applause from the Capitolites.

The Hunger Games had truly begun.

 _Marjorem "Jo" Paella (17)- D11F_

The Capitol isn't how I imagined it.

These people don't remind me of my parents. In their outlandish costumes, altered faces and thirst for blood, they're more like monsters. My parents love the Hunger Games, but I was thought it was because they didn't fully understand them, or the permanence of the tributes' deaths. I try to keep that in mind as we're pulled into the Training Center's stable area, the crowd behind us starting to chant "Happy Hunger Games!".

Tomas stands stiffly beside me, apparently keeping up his tough-man charade that he's had since the Reaping. I'm pretty sure it's not how he really feels, but it's not my business. He's made it pretty clear that he doesn't want anything to do with me. I guess it's a bad idea to get involved with anyone since only one of us will survive.

The door shuts behind us once all of the chariots are safely inside the building, and the tributes start climbing out. The couple from Seven gleefully rips their costume off of their bodies before their stylists can stop them. Some of the others who clearly had a better-executed concept strut proudly over to their mentors. One and Two are looking regal as always, and Five also look like futuristic, colorful astronauts, or possibly stars. Six's costume isn't the worst, covered in sharp sheets of metal, and neither is Twelve, in somewhat simple charcoal-themed, flowy outfits.

I like to think that our look went over well, too. The concept of a pair of birds that fly through the orchards isn't the worst one that Eleven has ever had. The feathers are itchy and the wings on our arms cumbersome, but hopefully we were memorable.

Seeder comes over to me as soon as she spots us, helping me down from the chariot. Chaff, the male mentor, helps Tomas, who immediately starts ripping the feathers and headpiece off of himself. No one reprimands him, though Chaff does chuckle a little.

"I think that went well," Seeder says. "The two of you are certainly not typical Eleven children, so your light skin will certainly draw more attention to you."  
"I don't want too much attention," I say, uneasily watching the boy from Two take off his laurel crown, shaking out his brown hair. I can't help but imagine being strangled by those muscular arms. If the other tributes feel like I'm receiving special treatment from the Capitol, that would make me a target.

"Don't worry about that yet," Seeder says. "Just focus on your training now, and try not to seem neither weak nor strong, just somewhere in the mi-"

"Jett!"

Everyone's attention is suddenly turned to the boy from Five, who is struggling to run past us in his tight jumpsuit. A large black dog suddenly bounds into view, panting with his tongue lolling out. The boy embraces the dog with clear affection, the dog reciprocating with licks to his face.

"What is that, Caleb?" the Five escort shrieks. The dog is muddy and I can smell it from where I'm standing. I don't think the Capitolites are used to seeing animals how they naturally are.

"It's Jett!" the boy says defensively, standing over him protectively. It's a threatening sight; the boy's tall stature and strong body could certainly protect his friend if he wanted to. The tributes are dead silent as Caleb motions to Jett to follow him to the chariot, where his district partner is waiting, stunned. I've never heard of a pet following someone to the Capitol, but I guess there's no real way to know.

"It's disgusting!" The escort hisses, stalking away. The girl shambles after her, head down. Caleb curses under his breath, not looking at anyone else as he follows them into the Training Center. The dog is right on his heels.

 _Antonia "Attie" Montgomery (17)- D6F_

The Careers are gathering around the Two chariot, whispering amongst themselves. I've always been a good eavesdropper, but anyone would notice me approaching in this costume. I rip the shards of metal off of my frame, not even wincing when one of them slices my finger open. I squeeze the cut with my opposite hand and watch the blood with fascination.

"Are you hurt?" one of my mentors asks me, his eyes droopy and colored red. I don't know where he's getting his morphine here in the Capitol. I only sold him enough for a few days yesterday, and judging by his shaking, he's used more than that. There must be cookers in the Capitol as well.

"Only a little," I say. "Don't worry about it."

That's enough to appease him it seems. He drifts back over to the other mentor and starts chatting with her lowly. I suck on my finger and watch the rest of the tributes. I notice Jason watching me and slowly extend my middle finger to him, making him huff and turn away. I know he could be a valuable ally in the Games, with his Peacekeeper training and all, but I can't stand being around him. He cares too much about right and wrong. I see him all the time around Six handing out clothes to the children and trying to get them off the streets, robbing me and the ring from clients and possibly more runners.

I would never ally with the enemy. I spit out the blood I've sucked into my mouth in the direction of the Careers as the idiots from Four waddle over to them. They look ridiculous in some seahorse getup, the girl practically dragging the guy over. Maybe he's starting to rethink volunteering.

The girl's eyes scan the crowd, pausing on the pair from Seven who both look big enough to handle a fight, and then on Jason and I. She seems more interested in Jason than anyone else. Interesting. It would be a shame if the Careers ask him to team up with them. That would mean I would have to kill him earlier than I would like, before he's dehydrated and hungry.

There's a sudden shout from the boy from Two, who apparently is already getting into fights with his teammates. They're whispering hurriedly again about something, but my heart is beating too fast to try to eavesdrop. I push down the small bubble of fear that burst inside me at the shout, closing my eyes.

Part of me knows i could never face Jason or one of the Careers head-on, but I know myself and my abilities, and I can't let any stupid fears make me start to doubt myself. I may not have physical training like Jason, but I'm the one who's had to survive on the street my entire life.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

I've been waiting for this moment my entire life, and not that it's here, I can hardly contain myself. I tuck a blonde curl behind my ear and grin around at all of the other tributes. It's great to see everyone, and I imagine the Capitol is enjoying it too. I ride the wave of adrenaline from the Parade over to the Two chariot.

"Hey guys!" I exclaim as Tiger and I approach. "Love your outfits."

Our allies, Hadrian and Rufina, share a look. "Yours too, princess," Rufina says. "You look dazzling."

I have the feeling that she's mocking me, but I decide to take the high road and not rise to the bait. We're going to be allies in the arena, after all. "Thank you. I"m Tiffany and this is Tiger." I present my district partner to them, who certainly does look dazzling with an emerald-studded body. The green isn't only a play on his name but also brings out the green in his eyes. I touch the sapphire necklace that my parents gave me and hold back a smile. We truly had the best costumes tonight.

"We know who you are," Hadrian says roughly. "Where is Four?"

We all turn to watch the girl, Nicolette, help the boy, Andrew, off their chariot. He seems a little stunned. Perhaps the Parade has left him a little too overwhelmed. I hope not, seeing as we're going to be allies. We need to be prepared to face anything in our path.

Nicolette guides him over to us, dodging the tributes from Ten, who are cheerfully petting their horses in their generic cowboy outfits. "Hey," she says in a low voice as she reaches us. "This is… Drew."

"What's wrong with him?" Rufina asks immediately. Two certainly has a no-nonsense feel about them.

"I think you should tell them," Nicolette tells Drew, pulling him forward. He sighs, staring at the ground. I prepare myself for the worst.

"I'm blind," he mumbles.

"What?" Hadrian roars. Everyone in the Training Center whips around to look at us. Rufina shushes him and immediately starts in on Drew.

"What do you mean you're blind? Why the hell did you volunteer then?"

Drew looks up and his condition is clear now, eyes unfocused and staring at nothing. "I wasn't blind when I volunteered!" he hisses. "Just in one eye. For some reason the second eye is now gone."

"That was a stupid decision," Hadrian says matter-of-factly. "Even with just one eye."

"What do you know about it?" Drew snarls. "Everything you have comes from your victor brother! I bet you have hardly any talents!"

As the two commence an argument in the middle of the Center, I turn and sigh to Tiger. "I guess our allies aren't as strong as we hoped."

Tiger is staring right at Hadrian, apparently not hearing me. "Who is that guy? A victor's brother? Is he Cato's brother?"

"No, silly. His last name is Cato. His brother is Cassius Cato. Did you not read the notes I gave you about the tributes?"

"I was getting around to it," he mumbles, eyes still locked on Hadrian. It seems I'm the only sane person here, I think as Nicolette and Rufina attempt to calm the situation. Tiger hasn't been acting like his usual calm, collected self since the Reaping. Not taking notes on the tributes, not realizing Hadrian is Cassius Cato's brother… these things aren't like him. I wonder if being away from home is starting to take a toll on him. As for Hadrian and Rufina, both seem full of themselves. Drew is completely blind. Nicolette might be my only real competition here for the crown. If so, she'll be the first to go in the arena.

 _Rooker Holm (13)- D12M_

The elevator ride up to our apartment is much shorter than I thought it would be. The Training Center is the tallest building in the Captiol, but we're flown up to the penthouse in less than thirty seconds, the motion hardly noticeable. The doors ding and open up to the most luxurious room I've ever seen, even more so than the train compartments. The ceilings are impossibly high, decorated in various crystal chandeliers that shed light onto velvet couches, plush rugs, a gigantic dining table, and a giant window with a view of the city. A few Avoxes stand in wait at the corners of the room, heads bowed.

"Welcome to your new home!" Effie exclaims, her heels clicking on the exposed parts of the floor. "Well, for the next week, anyway."

I let out a long breath and migrate to the window as Eryn strokes the soft material of the couches, which are curved around a flat-screen TV. The city is still alive, even though it's very late. The low buzz of activity can be heard even from here, the tiny ants of people going to and fro, dressed in spectacularly hideous Capitol fashion. A few blocks away, a large building is glowing with soft golden lights, hordes of people crowding around it.

"The Gamemaking Center," our mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, slurs from behind me. He's been drunk all day. "That's where they control your lives."  
I gulp and turn away from the window. I've always known the Capitolites loved the Games, but seeing them celebrating our premature deaths makes me sick to my stomach.  
"I think we made a good impression," Eryn says, sounding hopeful. "Our costume wasn't the worst."  
"I think the stylists did a very good job," Effie bounces her head in agreement. "Everyone will know your faces, even if they don't know your names."

Everything Effie says is like a backhanded compliment, but I try not to take it personally. I know I'll need confidence to make it through the next couple of days. I need to show the Gamemakers that I can learn quickly and be creative.

The Avoxes bring us dinner, which Eryn and I eat quickly. Effie and Haymitch don't get along, so our meals as a team our slightly awkward. After another delicious Capitol meal, Eryn and I head to bed. Tomorrow is the day our skills will really be put to the test, and I'll have to show the other tributes that I'm not another bloodbath death.

 _Rowan Loukios- Gamemaker_

It's never difficult to tell who the bloodbath deaths are. Younger tributes are always more likely to die, as are the tributes that are weak and afraid. As of now, I can identify about half who will die in the first battle of the Games. It's part of my job.

"Rowan, Bellona wants those popularity numbers in five minutes," Aelia peeks into my door, her silver hair easily recognizable.

"Alright," I say. "I'm almost finished."

Aelia disappears again. I give the numbers one last review before signing them. Skills, fear, size, these are the most important factors in determining who will die in the bloodbath. But when it comes to the rest of the Games, popularity took precedence over anything else. It's our job as Gamemakers to make sure the Games are entertaining, the tributes fascinating, and the victor worthy of their glory.

Outside my office, the main Gamemaking is alive with chatter and activity. Bellona stands above it all, surveying her hive as the bees buzz around with their work. On the giant screens, footage of the Tribute Parade is playing. It's mostly a success; some forgettable outfits as well as some memorable ones. The tributes this year will certainly be memorable as well.

I walk over to Bellona and hand over the file. "Thank you, Rowan," she says aloofly, sticking it under her arm. I know she's probably excited to read it, but she has to retain her composure in front of the others.

"Marcelle worked hard getting these from the sponsors, so make sure to thank her," I remind Bellona.

She gives me a sharp look, but eventually says, "Yes. I will. Is that the other matter you wanted to discuss with me?"

"Actually, it isn't," I take a deep breath. I'm still not sure if this will make for an exciting or disappointing Games. "Andrew de Luce, the boy from-"

"Four, I know," Bellona says impatiently. "Just tell me."

"Alright…" I mumble under my breath. "His right eye has lost its sight as well. We're not sure what caused it, but it happened on the train. What should we do? He's a Career, and-"

"We do nothing, then," Bellona cuts me off again. "We're not responsible for his medical conditions. Do you us scrambling to give Grizelda Weaver a C-section?"

"No," I say. "That's what I thought. But what do we tell the sponsors? They'll be angry if they bet their money on him only to realize when he's in the arena that he's blind."

"If the word gets out, let it. He won't be able to hide it during the Interview anyway." She points a finger at me. "Will you tell Marcelle thank you for me?"

"I… yes, I will."

 **So there it is! I hope everyone is satisfied with the costumes. I tried to use the ones that were suggested to me when everyone submitted their tributes, but if there weren't any suggestions I just came up with my own.**

 **Now we're heading on to the training! I'm having some trouble figuring out what to do for the training chapter(s), so I'm leaving it up to you guys. I'm going to set up a poll on my profile with options that you vote for. Don't feel obligated to vote, but if you want to read it a specific way than please do so.**

 **I'm not sure when I'll be able to update next, but the semester is over in a week, so hopefully a week and a half at most.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	17. Training: Part 1

**Hey everyone! The poll said you guys wanted three chapters for the training, so here is the first one. Sorry for the long wait; finals and moving back into my house took up a lot of my time. I hope you all enjoy the chapter!**

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

My first thought in the morning is of Alexis. Her name is one my lips when I wake up, and I can still see her face swimming in front of me. I promised her I would try to win, and I know what that entails, my father's face starting to appear in my head. I shake the thought away and breathe in deep before throwing my covers off.

Outside my window I see the city is still asleep, no cars racing along the streets or even any shops open. Our escort said that the Capitol only wakes up at around noon, but I didn't realize what exactly that meant until now. I stare out the window, wondering how it's even possible that so many people nothing to do and nowhere to go. In Seven, the lumberjacks will already have taken down a couple of trees by now, and the market will be up and thriving.

I dress in the clothes that the escort laid out for us last night. Training clothes. The black suit is made from a fancy material that I've never seen before, stretchy and light. It feels nice to wear, but I refuse to enjoy it. I need to get in the right headspace for the next three days. I can't let the other tributes know how my strengths or my weaknesses. Johanna said that we should learn as much as we can in this time period, but what does she know? She pretended not to know anything. And while I'm not stupid enough to try to pull the same stunt just five years later, I'm not going to reveal anything except to the Gamemakers.

Willow and Johanna are waiting for me in the dining room, where a lush breakfast is waiting for us. Willow is stretching in the middle of the room, either oblivious or unperturbed by Johanna watching her closely.

"Hey, Seb," she says when I enter, standing up straight. Some sweat is already lining her forehead. "Ready to train?"

"You can do what you want. I'm going to be sizing everyone up."

"You're going to size everyone up?" Willow rolls her eyes. "Please. You don't know anything about people."

"And you do?"

"I know something's bothering you," she says casually, bending down to touch her toes. "What is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say slowly, starting to feel irritated. Willow can be annoying at times.

"Whatever. We'll find out soon enough how you do with weapons. I know what I'm going after. Knives!" Her eyes light up. "The perfect weapon. You can throw them, stab with them, defend yourself, and use for finding food…"

As she trails off, I try not to think about plunging a kitchen knife into my father's chest. I stuff another fruit pastry into my mouth and resolve to silence.

 _Jason Sparks (18)- D6M_

The ride down to the Training Center is silent. Attie seems to have decided to stake out on her own, which is fine with me. I don't really want to be allied with a morphine peddler anyway. I from experience on the streets that they are flighty, selfish, and untrustworthy, and Attie seems all of the above. Her face is completely blank as we arrive at the Center

The room itself is huge, stocked with weapons of all shapes and sizes, as well as various survival stations that have their own full grown trees, nets and climbing stations hang from the ceiling, and simulations to practice our weapons skills are at the far wall. It's a Hunger Games' fan's fantasy.

I feel like I'm in the arena already as Attie and I migrate to where everyone is standing in a semi-circle around a Capitolite woman. Everyone takes their places according to their district and she begins to speak.

"My name's Atala. I'll be your trainer for the next three days. These training stations are designed to help you survive in the arena. I recommend you learn from every station and master as many skills as you can. In your private session with the Gamemakers, you will show off what you have learned to earn your training score, so work hard and learn while you still can."

The Careers are nodding vigorously, and Attie is staring around the room with calculating eyes. I don't like the way she looks at other people, so when Atala lets us loose, I immediately head towards the fire-making station.

The man is eager to teach, showing me how to make a fire in under a minute with nothing but some sticks, but I'm hardly paying attention, more interested in what everyone else is doing. To my surprise, Attie hasn't chosen to start with any weapons, but is at the knot-making station. The Careers are hogging the larger weapons, as expected, laughing and showing each other their skills. The boy from Two takes the heads off of several dummies with a broadsword while his district partner spears moving targets through the heart right beside him. They will make formidable opponents, but I can't help but wonder if it's a liability to reveal your strengths right away.

I spin a small twig in the palm of my hand as the girl from Four picks up a trident and throws it with muscular arms into a dummy's chest. It's buried deep into the body, and the other Careers whoop in celebration. She approaches her district partner, who is sitting away from the others, looking downcast, and possibly attempts to cheer him up. She throws her silky brown hair behind her back and snorts in laughter at something that he says. I can tell what angle she will be going for with the Capitol with her beauty and physique.

Her eyes stray to the rest of the room and land on me, and I turn away immediately. Some of the tributes may have pieced together that I have Peacekeeper training, and I don't want to make myself more of a target.

 _Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F_

"That one," I say, pointing to a small green plant.

"Yes! Very good. You're a quick learner." The man in charge of the edible plants station gives me a smile. I wonder how many tributes he's trained before this. How many quick learners have died in the Games for his entertainment?

I pull the radish out of the ground. I've never seen one before, and it doesn't look very appetizing. But I suppose when I'm starving in the arena, I'll be thankful I know how to recognize them.

There's a thud from the other side of the room. Pixel has fallen off of the high point of the obstacle course, now sprawled on the ground and clutching at his knee. The trainers help him up and luckily he isn't hurt. I look away before he can meet my eyes. I've known he's a goner from the start, and now everyone knows it. I don't want to be associated with him any more than I already am.

"I'm going to set traps now," I tell the plants trainer, who looks a little surprised but lets me go nonetheless. If I really want to learn which plants are edible, I need to come back each day and test my memory. A little from each station each day. That's what's going to get me through to my victory.

The boy from Nine is at the trap station, but luckily he doesn't say much. The two of us work in silence, and he's surprisingly good at it. The trainer seems very impressed, and I can tell he's pleased with himself, so I go to the camouflage station where I won't be so easily overlooked. The painting is difficult, but I think I've gotten the hang of it by the time the girl from Eleven shows up. I recognize her as the one with a Capitol name and light skin that isn't typical of her district, and leave in disgust. I look around and realize I won't be able to work alone, so I try to find someone who isn't annoying. The girl from Six is at the knot-making station, every now and then glancing around the room. I can tell from the look in her eyes that she isn't looking for a conversation partner. As I approach, her eyes grow cold and she refocuses on her work, but doesn't leave. We work together in silence until I think I've learned everything I can, and I decide to try something else. I get up and brush off my knees, looking around for my next opportunity.

"My name's Attie, by the way," the girl says suddenly.

I glance down at her and force a smile on my face. "I'm Tesla." With nothing else to offer to her, I turn away and head towards the knives. It's a popular weapon, so the line is plenty long, but I'm willing to wait.

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

Tiger is trying his hand at the broadsword, only hitting about half of the aiming points. It's not bad, but still not as good as Tiffany and I. He is ruthless with a throwing axe though, hitting the mark almost every time. It's quite impressive, I must say, but his sword skills could use some work.

"You need to adjust your grip," I say.

He glares at me. "My grip is fine."

"Whatever," I roll my eyes. He's been acting weird towards me ever since last night. I don't know what's gotten into him, but we have bigger problems to attend to. Most pressing is the issue of Drew. No one wants to say it, but we can't have a blind man in our alliance. I hope I'm not the one who has to break the news to him, but it might come down to that. Nikki and Tiffany keep giving him special treatment and helping him around, as if he actually stood a chance here.

Luckily, no one seems to have noticed his predicament, mostly due to the fact that he's been sitting in the same place for most of the morning. The other tributes must think he's either really confident or starting to give up.

"He's right," Tiffany says, wiping some sweat from her forehead. It doesn't mess up her makeup though, which is perfectly applied and apparently glued to her face. "Your grip is too loose. And your hands are too far apart.

Tiger huffs, throwing the sword to the ground. Rufina picks it up, seemingly unaffected by the scene, until she turns and shoots me a pointed look and mimes hanging herself. I stifle a grunt and try to seem nonchalant as I sidle over to Tiffany. She strings her bow and lets the arrow fly, missing the target by a hair. The next one is closer to the middle, probably a decent hit if the target was a real person.

"Hey, do you know what's up with Tiger?" I ask her. As his district partner, she would know better than anyone.

"No. He's always a bit of a grump so don't worry."

"He seems more of a grump toward me than anyone else."

"I'm sure it's fine," Tiffany huffs, turning to me. "Are you just going to stand there or are we going to practice?"

I grumble under my breath and wander over to where NIkki and Drew are standing near the knives station. The girl from Seven is trying her hand at them, some of them even hitting the targets.

"What's going on?" I ask Nikki, ignoring Drew as he perks up at the sound of my voice.

"They aren't going to fix Drew's vision," she says under her breath.

I try to seem surprised. "That's too bad."

She nods, eyes following the knives that are flying through the air. She glances at Drew, frowning a little and sighing. I can tell she wants to get away from him and show the other tributes what she's made of, but she doesn't want to leave him where anyone could find out that he's blind. I kind of understand; it's a little embarrassing for her to be associated with a blind district partner, especially when you're a Career. Good thing it's her problem and not mine.

The girl from Five steps up to the knives and throws off entirely off course, her ears turning red. I laugh unabashedly, ignoring Nikki's raised eyebrow.

"I want to try," Drew says.

"What?" "What?"

Nikki and I exclaim at the same time.

"Relax," he says, his eyes staring past me strangely. "I used to be good at it before…"

He trails off, perhaps unwilling to say it.

"Drew, I'm not sure if that's a good-"

A loud bell rings around the room, signaling to us that it's time for lunch.

"Thank God," I hear Nikki say as she drags Drew behind her. I sigh as I watch. It's time for us to drop some dead weight.

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

Denver and I sit alone at the edge of the room, watching the rest of the tributes. Denver is nervously munching on his roasted ham, fear filling his eyes.

"Don't worry about them," I whisper to him. "They're just as scared of you as you are of them."  
"Not them" he nods toward the Careers, who are laughing together in the center of the room.

"They're just trying to intimidate us," I tell him as the boy from One picks something out of his teeth with his knife. His muscles bulge as he stretches behind him. "There's no use in worrying about them. We have to focus on ourselves."

"I know," Denver says quietly, fingering the necklace that his sister gave him. I notice him watching the tributes from Four, who have been interesting me as well. They don't seem too keen on bonding with their alliance, staying quiet and eating slowly. The boy in particular has been acting strangely, barely eating and seeming shaky on his feet. His eyes have an odd, faraway look. I wonder if it's a symptom of his eye problem and shrug. It's not my problem anyway. Hopefully Four's disregard for their allies will lead to their early deaths.

Denver's eyes are now on the pair from Seven, who are also sitting together and silently taking stock of everyone in the room. I try not to reprimand him and just eat my food. He isn't the best ally I could have, but I don't trust any of the other tributes. At least I know Denver won't stab me in the back. He would be too afraid.

We've been doing the best we can in training, but we have different ideas of how we should spend our time. I've been living with animals my entire life, and I've always had to know which plants are edible and how to tie knots, make traps, and dress wounds. Survival skills are certainly not my weakness, and I need weapons training if I want to win this thing. On the other hand, Denver is too terrified to try his hand at any of the weapons stations, and sticks to the simple survival ones. I can tell he's starting to lose hope. He doesn't deserve to die, none of us do. I try not to think about it. There's nothing I can do now except try to save myself.

"After this, I want to try some weapons," I tell him, his eyes widening. "You don't have to go with me, but we need to know how to defend ourselves."  
"I know," he's practically trembling with fear, but something hardens in his eyes. "I'll do it too."

 _Sock Northsilk (12)- D8F_

Lunch ends in a flash, and soon Tag and I are back in the Training Center. I string my bow and pull it back, wincing as the tension puts a strain on my arm. I aim the best I can and let loose, the arrow hitting the dummy on the shoulder. It's not a great hit, but not a bad one either. It would definitely incapacitate an enemy.

"What do you think?" I ask Tag. I glance over to him and see he's watching the pair from Five climb the obstacle course. The boy seems pretty adept at jumping over the obstacles and climbing the ropes, but the girl is falling behind a little. Her foot catches on a bump in the course and she stumbles a little, but finishes within the time allotted.

"We need to learn how to do that," Tag says. "Running from an enemy is important to survival."

"I'm not going to run," I say sharply. "We face our enemies head-on."

"That's a good way to get killed," Tag says, sounding amused. "Trust me. We need to round out our skillset."

"Alright," I relent. We've been doing what I want the entire morning, so I guess I should let him take charge for a little while. I have a hunch that even if I didn't agree, I would find myself coerced into doing it anyway. Tag doesn't strike me as a someone to look over in this competition. Despite our ages, we will make a formidable pair in the arena.

I wonder, not for the first time, if Tag's weak reaction at the Reaping was all an act. His confidence and cleverness doesn't match the nation's first impression of him, and I guess I'll find out what his strategy is during his interview with Caesar Flickerman.

We get in line for the obstacle course, Tag going first. He finishes the monkey bars easily and climbs up the rope surprisingly well, but on the way down he slips and falls onto the floor. I gasp and run to him, carefully kneeling beside him. He's grabbing his shoulder in pain, his dyed purple fringe covering most of his face.

"Already breaking his bones before I get the chance to," the boy from Two jokes loudly from across the room, much to the amusement of his partner, who snorts.

"Is that why you need to train your whole life?" Tag snaps suddenly, sitting up without pain. "Because you're so scared of two twelve-year olds that you have to taunt them and assure them you're going to kill them?"

"Alright, everyone, calm down," Atala interjects, her and another trainer circling Tag and I. She gently feels Tag's shoulder as the Careers scoff and walk away, back to their weapons. Everyone in the room is looking at us.

"I'll be fine," Tag says, pulling his arm away. "Let me try again. Sometimes you have to fall to learn what not to do."

 _Rooker Holm (13)- D12M_

I try not to give the Careers any attention and focus on my training, but it's hard when the girl from Two is behind me, sighing impatiently and tapping her foot. I throw the spear again, pleased when the point buries itself into the dummy's stomach. I"m getting better, and my chances of survival are increasing.

The girl behind me chuckles softly. I ignore her and grab another spear, this one missing the target entirely. I try not to be discouraged, picking up yet another and throwing it. This time it impales the dummy's leg. The trainer keeps telling me that my aim is too low, but I can't fix it no matter how much I try.

"It's my turn," the girl, Rufina, says behind me. I can tell by the tone of her voice that it isn't a suggestion, but I know the other tributes won't take me seriously if I'm a pushover. I pick up another spear and raise it up, beginning to aim when it is suddenly snatched out of my hand and thrown over my shoulder, hitting the bull's eye perfectly. I gasp and start to tremble, trying not to show my fear.

"Everyone has to wait their turn," the trainer says uncomfortably, stepping forward.

"It is my turn," Rufina hisses angrily.

Suddenly there's a crash as the boy from Eight falls from the obstacle course. I quietly watch the exchange between him and Hadrian, then put down the spears and move on to the archery station.

"The young ones are starting to get on my nerves," Rufina says angrily, tossing a spear over her shoulder and hitting the target dead-on again. "I can't wait until I can spear one of them. It's going to feel good to finally bleed them."

"Tell me about it," Hadrian says darkly.

Rufina's eyes turn sharply to me and I turn away. I need to focus on me, nothing else. I pull the bowstring back and let it loose, the arrow flying past the dummy completely. Rufina snorts in dersion, so I string another one and carefully aim, taking deep breaths. I imagine Gaia is watching me, like she will be in the actual Games. Her blue eyes are watching my face. I can hear her saying, Oh, Rooker. I don't think you can do it. Do you need my help?

Not now, Gaia. I can protect myself.

I let the arrow fly. It hits the target, though not directly on the bull's eye. I still glance back at Rufina triumphantly. She's glaring at me, and makes a slashing motion over her own throat before pointing at me. I gulp back my fear. I can do this myself. For Gaia.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

My sword swings right into the neck of my victim, chopping the head off part-way. I swing the other direction and impale the point into the chest of another dummy. I wipe the sweat off of my forehead and admire my work. The other tributes aren't going to stand a chance against me. And my allies… aren't exactly victor material.

After Hadrian was needlessly mean to that twelve-year old from Eight, he's been sulking around all day. Drew is useless, even though I am sympathetic to his plight. Nikki seems to have no interest in anyone, sticking to herself and Drew, working on her trident skills. Rufina has some potential, and so does Tiger, but they're not serious enough about this. I knew that about Tiger from the start. It's always been about proving his family wrong and not about the Games themselves.

I pluck my sword out of the target and place it back on the shelf, leaving it for the boy from Eleven. His eyes are green and watch me sharply, without fear. I remember how he had pushed the Reaping ball of off the stage at his ceremony and roll my eyes at him. There's no need to be so disrespectful to everyone in Panem. So ungrateful.

"Alright, everyone, let's round it up for the day!" Atala calls to us. Tiger finishes his last lap around the center and jogs over to me.

"Are you ready to go?" I ask him. I'm ready to take a nice relaxing bath in our giant tub after our first tough training day. I don't have much to learn, but my allies have been testing my patience.

"Not yet," Tiger says. "We're meeting one last time before the day is over. To kick out Drew."

"Thank god."

Nikki and Drew are waiting for us near the tridents. The other tributes walk past us, giving us short glances of fear and anger. Hadrian and Rufina join us soon after. Rufina clears her throat, nodding to Tiger and I. Tiger raises an eyebrow and I shake my head. There's no way I can tell Drew we don't want him in our alliance. I feel bad for him; it's not his fault that his eyes don't work, but we can't be responsible for him anymore.

"What's going on?" Drew asks, his eyes staring at nothing.

"I'll tell him," Hadrian says shortly. "Drew, you're out."

"What?"

"You're out of the alliance," Tiger supplies, giving Hadrian a strange side-eye.

"You can't do that," Drew gasps. "I can still fight!"

"No, you can't," Rufina says, not even looking at him. "Sorry. Let's go."

Her and Hadrian leave without so much as a look back. Nikki rolls her eyes at Tiger and I. "Thanks for leaving me with him," she says, grabbing Drew's arm and pulling his away.

"I feel bad," I whisper to Tiger as we make our way out of the Training Center. "I mean, he's been training his whole life for this just like us."

"I know, but that doesn't matter," Tiger says. "He's going to die anyway."


	18. Training: Part 2

_Caleb Odalric (18)- D5M_

Breakfast with Amelia is always incredibly awkward. I'm not one for conversation in the first place, and I can tell she isn't either. She's been sticking to me during training, trying whatever I try without speaking to me. She's not terrible with a bow and arrow, which is the only weapon I've decided to show during my training as to not reveal my strength. I don't have much weapons training, but my father has taught me how to use a baton and somewhat of a blade, and I don't want the Careers catching on.

Amelia spoons some rich blueberry yogurt into her mouth, avoiding my eyes as usual. Jett is sitting at my feet, panting loudly. I've been playing catch with him around the apartment, much to our escort's displeasure. She hates animals, but I don't care. Our mentors don't seem to mind, and neither does Amelia.

I feed Jett a piece of breakfast ham from the table, his eyes widening comically as he chomps down on the treat. His black fur is much more shiny now that I've given him a bath. I still don't know how he got here in the Capitol, but I assume he knew I was leaving and that I needed his support.

"Don't feed it from the table," our escort snaps shrilly at me from the living room.

I roll my eyes. "His name is Jett. Not 'it'."

"It's a filthy animal that belongs in District Five," she sneers.

"Let's calm down," one of our mentors says slowly, his voice thick like the wine that he drinks practically every day. "We need to be a team."

"He's right," I say. I glance at Amelia, who is still staring at her yogurt, apparently afraid to meet anyone's eyes.

"You know, we would make a good team," I say quietly.

She looks up, her eyes filled with fear. "Yeah…" she says quietly.

I rub Jett's head as he searches for more ham. "Like me and Jett. We've been together since my sister died four years ago."

Amelia looks up suddenly at me. She chews slowly on her blueberries, staring at me with shock apparent on her face. "How… did she die?"

"In the Games," I say quietly. Jett licks in between my fingers. "The guy from One killed her during the bloodbath. She was just a child. Sometimes I think she sent Jett from wherever she is to protect me."

"That's beautiful," Amelia says. Her voice is soft, but not hard to hear. She reminds of Nina too, in a way. "I have someone like that too. Her name is Elanor."

"A dog?"

"No, a person," Amelia giggles quietly, then her face turns solemn. "I guess I'll be her Nina."

 _Albert "Triple A" Anderson (13)- D9M_

"Great job!" The instructor says incredulously. "You really know your plants."

"Thanks," I say smugly. My expertise from the woods is paying off nicely. I don't have many skills with weapons other than large knives from the butchery, but I'm fast and smart. The other tributes really shouldn't underestimate me.

After I'm finished with the plans station, I glance around the room. I see Zel working at the fire station. I decidedly look away. I've tried not to get attached to her, even though I do feel bad for her. I can't let Zel's baby get inside my head. My head only has room for knowledge for the Games. Everything else needs to be thrown out.

I find myself wandering to the camouflage station. The short, artificially grown trees are the closest thing to a forest that I have access to. Every night, I set my walls to show me a peaceful forest to help me sleep, but I miss the voice of the woods. The wind whistling through the trees, the birds singing sweetly, the sunlight dappling my face through the leaves…

"Hello?"

I blink rapidly, realizing where I am. The camouflage instructor is staring at me with concern.

"Yes, sorry."

I try as hard as I can to paint myself to look like a tree, but my mind keeps wandering back to District Nine. I miss Elle and Minka and keesher, and my grandmother. She'll be lost without me, and Elle won't be able to deal with her by herself.

After I'm finished painting, I head over to the obstacle course. It feels good to be able to let out some energy. The exhaustion afterward is a welcome release of emotion. Anger, sadness, overwhelming fear. I can only hope the arena has a wooded area so I can show the Capitol what I'm made of.

I finish the obstacle course in under five minutes, an admirable time. I've always been quick on my feet, and a glance at the Careers weighing their weapons in their hands is enough to convince me to steer clear of the cornucopia during the bloodbath. The trees will give me everything I need to survive.

My eyes are drawn to where the girl from Twelve- _Eryn_ \- is at the trap-making station. I can't help but gulp at her beautiful hazel eyes and wavy blonde hair. She truly might be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I know it's stupid to form silly crushes at a time like this… or is it the perfect time? We might both be dead in a couple of days. I might as well go talk to her.

I quietly make my way to the traps, sitting down next to her and listening to the instructor. The slipknot is easy enough, though the butterfly knot presents a challenge.

"It doesn't even look like a butterfly," Eryn complains under her breath.

I laugh softly, and I don't miss her grin. She looks up at me with a fond gleam in her eye. She blushes a little when she sees me looking at her.

"I haven't had anyone to talk to since we got here," I say. "Do you want to stick together?"

She seems surprised at my forwardness, and I feel my own palms start to sweat when I realize what I've done. But she just laughs and says, "Sure."

 _Andrew "Drew" DeLuce (18)- D4M_

I feel around the ground for another stick, my fingers curling around the wood. I take a deep breath and start to rub it against the fire block, hoping against hope that this time i will manage to start a fire. I've been at this station all morning with no luck. My weapons skills are the best they can be, but I never thought I was going to actually need to find food and water in the arena. The Careers can always rely on the cornucopia to provide for us, but now that life line is gone. My life is truly in jeopardy, just like any one of the Reaped tributes. Everytime I think about it, my stomach tightens into knots. I'm no better than a scared twelve-year old who's never picked up a knife. No, I'm even worse off than that.

"Apply more pressure," the instructor tells me. I wish I could see the look on his face. His voice sounds normal, but I wonder if he's watching me with regret or indifference, or the worst- pity. When I had the surgery years ago and lost the vision in my right eye, everyone had thought that I would drop out of the Academy. They thought any sort of disability was a liability in the arena, but I proved them all wrong. And now they're all waiting for me back in Four, waiting for their victor. My mother will be making fruit and meat platters for her viewing parties, with Fiona stealing bites when she's not looking. Gregory will be spending time at the Academy, practicing his trident skills and waiting for the day he will be able to volunteer.

We always talked about being a pair of brother victors, just like Hadrian plans to be with Cassius. But I guess things don't always work out like that. All I have to do is ask Nikki. Her brother Marcus had died in the Games, and now she's here with double the pressure on her shoulders. I guess I'll be Gregory's Marcus.

I hear a spark against the fire stone and jump in surprise. The instructor laughs nervously. "Don't be afraid. Noises are to be expected before the fire starts. That was a good try, though. You almost had it!"

I grunt noncommittally Even without seeing his face I can tell he's lying. If anything one spark means I'm not even halfway there. I try again and again and again until I can feel the heat of the sparks on my fingertips, but there's still no flame. I throw the sticks down in frustration and attempt to stand up, stumbling until I reach my hand out and grab something beside me.

"Whoa, sorry," a male voice says.

I stand up straight again and clear my throat. "Don't stand so close to people when they're making fires."

"There didn't seem to be a whole lot of fire-making going on," the voice says sarcastically.

I feel myself bristle, but I don't even know who I'm talking to. "What district are you from?"

"You didn't do your homework," the voice chuckles. "That's interesting. What are you doing away from the other Careers?"

"None of your business," I mumble, forgetting my original plan and plopping back down to the ground.

"Whatever. I need to make a fire too, so move over."

I huff and try to scootch away from the voice, but end up almost falling over.

"Are you okay? It seems like something's wrong."

"I'm fine," I snap, though the news must come out at some point. And it might as well be from me…

"Are you sure? You look a little… panicked."

Is that really the vibe that my eyes give off? "I'm not panicked. I'm… blind."

There's a pregnant pause. "You mean in one eye, right?"

"No." I take a deep breath. "Both eyes. It happened on the train ride here."

"Shit. That sucks."

I snort in laughter. "Yeah. It sucks."

"You're on your own then?" I hear something rustle next to me as the guy takes a seat.

"Yeah."

We sit quietly for a few more minutes. I hear the boy trying to make a fire next to me, the sticks rubbing together and the tell-tale sparks. His are coming easier than mine did, and in a few minutes he whoops in triumph. "I did it!"

"At least you stand a chance," I say bitterly, kicking at the dirt underneath our feet.

"I wouldn't say you don't stand _any_ chance," the boy says, still cheery from his accomplishment. "I mean, you can swim and stuff. You're from Four."

"You didn't tell me where you're from?"

"I'm from Eleven."

My brain conjures up an image of a tall, wiry boy pushing the Reaping ball of off the stage. His lighter skin and piercing green eyes certainly set him apart from most Eleven tributes anyway.

"Do you want to teach me how to make a fire? The instructor's given up on me."

 _Marjorem "Jo" Paella (17)- D11F_

The knives are easier to throw than yesterday. Several of them stick into the target in front of me, getting closer to the bull's eye with each toss. After all my knives have flown out of my hands, I go retrieve them from the targets. As I pluck the final one from the target's circle, another knife flies past my head. The blade buries itself in the target next to my head, making me gasp.

I look back so quickly my neck cracks. The instructor yells, "Be careful of your fellow tributes!"  
"Sorry," the culprit says flatly. "I didn't see her."

I glare at the girl from Three, whose black fringe covers most of her face, one glowing green eye staring through me emotionlessly.

"She saw me!" I snap. "She was trying to scare me! Well, good luck Three!"

"Whatever, Capitolite," she spits at me, somehow keeping her tone even and easy to hear despite all the noise in the room. "I guess you're just not used to your life being in danger like the rest of us."

"I volunteered to save my friend!" I shout, throwing aside the knives. "You don't know what I've been through!"

"Break it up, you two," Atala says loudly, pushing between us. "No fighting until the arena."

"I'm not trying to fight," the girl says, walking away without another word. I can imagine myself throwing one of my knives into the back of her head, watching her fall to the ground.

I push Atala away and stalk over to the sword station, ignoring the One who give me a suspicious once-over. I pick up the sword, surprised by the weight that pulls at my shoulders. I take a jab at the nearest dummy and slash another across the chest, breathing hard. The Ones are whispering amongst themselves, probably about my altercation with the Three girl. I turn away again in anger and clumsily take the head off another dummy. I'm breathing hard by the time I'm finished and the girl approaches me quietly.  
"Are you really from the Capitol?" she asks, her curly blonde hair bouncing behind her.

"No!" I say angrily. "I was born in District Eleven, for your information."

"Alright, alright," the girl says calmly. She looks me up and down. "I just thought you might be a good addition to our alliance. The Capitol will love you regardless of where you were born."

I lean in closer to her so I can see the impeccable makeup that's been applied to her face. "You can take your alliance- and shove it with your sword up your pretty little ass."

Her eyes widened and she turned away, muttering something about how I'm "so rude!", but I don't care what the Careers think of me. The only thing I have to worry about is what the Capitol thinks of me, even though I hate to admit it. The girl was right… I have an advantage over the other tributes whether or not I acknowledge it. I might as well play it up as much as I can.

 _Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M_

The bell that rings for lunch reminds me of the bells in the District One school, and it's not too far off from my experience so far. I can't exactly say that my time in the Capitol has been what I hoped it would be. For one, my parents don't support me and think I'm a weak fool. Then one of my allies goes completely blind and we lose his strength in the arena. Sure, he will make an easy target, but the Career alliance is weaker without all of its players. Then I realized who one of my other allies are… Hadrian Cato. The brother of Cassius Cato.

Everytime I look at him, the arm on my arms stand on end. He and Rufina are laughing gleefully at Tiffany's story about how the girl from Eleven tried to sass her earlier, and every time he opens his mouth I want to stick an axe into his face.

"Everyone here is so ungrateful," Tiffany harps. "They get the chance to represent their district in the country's most important pageant and this is how they act? Where's their sportsmanship? Or even their sense of competition?"

"I don't think the outer districts really know how to compete," Hadrian says with mouthful of lavender rice. "That's why they're so poor; I mean think about it! The Captiol needs them just as much as they need us, and yet they're starving in the streets. They expect everything to be given to them."  
"I'm starting to think you're right, Hadrian," Tiffany says bitterly, staring at the eleven girl from across the room. "I even asked her if she wanted to be in our alliance and she turned it down."

"Well, we don't need her anyway," Hadrian says. "Unless we wanted to kill her while she slept to eliminate the threat."

"Just like your brother," I snort, taking a swig of sparkling Capitol water.

Hadrian raises an eyebrow at me. "What does that mean exactly?"

"Don't tell me you don't remember what your brother did in the arena."

A tense silence has fallen over our table, something that doesn't happen often between Hadrian's rowdiness and Rufina's jokes.

"Do you mean when Cassius killed the remaining Careers when they reached the final five?" Nikki asks, hitting the nail on the head.

"That's right. Remember the girl from One and the guy from Four whose heads your brother bashed in while they slept?"

"I remember, all right," Hadrian rumbles. "What is it to you?"

"That was my cousin, you idiot," I hiss, spearing a piece of honeyed ham on my fork. "Blush Emerald, placed fifth in the 71st Hunger Games."

"Damn, I'm sorry," Hadrian says, his eyes cool and calm. "But that's just how it is, Tiger. It's just like we were saying, it's all about competition."

"He killed her while she was _sleeping_. It wasn't a fair fight."

"Everything's fair in the arena, Tiger," Rufina says, seeming unconcerned. "Cassius won fair and square."

Though anger is still seething inside me, I try not to let it show in the face of my allies' collected demeanors. Blush is the reason that my parents don't want me in the Games, the reason I've had to fight for everything I have, all because Hadrian's brute brother decided she would be a worthy competitor in the final fight. I guess I'll just have to show Hadrian in the arena what it's like to be betrayed.

 _Antonia "Attie" Montgomery (17)- D6F_

Lunch is a strange affair. The boy from Four seems to have been dropped from the Careers, instead eating with the boy from Eleven. Though the other tributes haven't caught on yet for whatever reason, there is definitely something wrong with his vision. As for the other alliances, there are several district partners seated together, and not much conversation happens except for at the Career table. On the other side of the room, Jason sits alone, making it clear he wants nothing to do with me. He thinks I don't notice how the girl from Four keeps looking at him whenever she can. I know he will probably replace her district partner in the Career alliance, his Peacekeeper training making him either a valuable ally or a target.

After lunch is over, we head back to the training area. I stay in the survival stations, making sure I know my edible plants, how to make a fire, and how to treat a wound before anything else. However, after an hour or so I start to feel antsy and wander over to the weapons. I don't try my hand at any of them, but eavesdrop on the instructors as they give their advice to the others. I don't want to show the other tributes my strengths or weaknesses by picking up any weapons, but listening in itself will be a huge help if I ever get my hands on one in the arena.

The pair from Five are at the bow and arrow station right now, the girl trying to pull back the string. The instructor adjusts her grip and stance before she lets the arrow fly. It misses the target completely, but she tries again and again until it sticks in the dummy's chest. I watch her feet and hands as closely as I can to try to learn something. It seems simple enough, but I know it will be much more difficult in practice.

Over at the throwing knives station, the girl from Three- Tesla- is back. It seems her altercation with the Eleven girl hasn't lowered her determination, and I can tell her skills have improved. In fact, she has been rotating throughout many of the survival stations all day, the same as yesterday. My guess is she wants to master each of them through repeated practice. It's a good strategy, better than staying at one place for a couple hours before moving on to the next. She seems like a smart girl overall, and likely to get at least a medium training score. And depending on how she does in her interview, maybe even some sponsors.

I hope she remembers my name as I approach her quietly. "Hey," I say. She turns sharply, her expression softening slightly when she sees who it is.

"Hey. I thought you were the Capitolite."

"No, I wasn't fed off of solid gold plates, trust me."

A grin splits her face. "Good. Neither was I. Do you want a try with the knives?"

"No thank you," I say. "I'm no good. I like to stick with the survival stations, but I'm having trouble with the edible plants. I saw you were good with them and I was wondering if you could help me."

I hope the invitation is enough to entice her to show off her skills. She squints a little at me, as if trying to figure out my game, but I give her my best naive face.

"Sure, Attie."

 _Pixel Mackaby (15)- D3M_

I keep an eye on everyone in the room as I gently wrap my arm in a cloth bandage. It's extremely forbidden for tributes to fight before the Games, but I can't be too careful. What if the Careers decide to eliminate the easiest competition before the Games even start? There's a first for everything.

Or what if the others are scouting for bloodbath kills? Everyone knows that killing young, weak tributes earns easy points at the beginning of the Games. I don't want to draw attention to myself in the least little bit, so I stay at the medicine station for most of the afternoon and learn how to dress wounds. Tesla is busy with the girl from Six at the plants station, so I can't go over there. Most of the weapons are hogged by the Careers and older tributes, as usual. The Sevens are at the knives right now, and the Eights are at the maces.

Eventually I work up the courage to sneak over to the spears. The girl from Two is usually messing with them, but right now she's at the axes with the guy from One. I pick up the smallest size, one that looks to be used more for up-close combat than throwing, and wave it around a little. I pull it over my shoulder and let it fly, missing the target completely. I feel my ears go red, but no one seems to notice. I pick up another, bigger this time, and carefully read the instructions next to the station. I balance my body like the person in the illustration and throw again, but to no avail. I try again and again until I have some accuracy, occasionally hitting the dummy, though far away from the target chest and head areas. As I pick up another spear, a throat clears behind me. I turn suddenly, my heart starting to pound at the sight of the Two girl. She raises an eyebrow at me.

"Well? Are you done failing yet?"

I bow my head and put the spear back, quickly retreating back to the survival stations portion of the room. I should have known better than to invade their space. I need to stick to my original plan; hide in the shadows and hope they forget about me. It's my plan for training and for the arena.

Although, I have been thinking about a special strategy to get home safely. Though he won too long ago to be my mentor, I remember Beetee Latier's Hunger Games, where he electrocuted the remaining tributes, cutting the Games short and declaring himself the victor. Many tributes from Three have since tried similar tactics, none of them being particularly successful, but it can't hurt to try. All I would need is a source of water big enough for the others to stand in, a knife, and some sort of wire. From there I could tie the wire around the knife and throw it against the force-field surrounding the arena. Surely the electric current would kill anyone in the water, leaving me either as victor or with less competition. It's a long shot, but many victors have had long shot plans before. Three isn't known for our prowess with weapons, but our brains are what set us apart.

I glance as Tesla. She knows how to control herself, but does she have the brain to get her through the difficult weeks to come? I wouldn't count on it.

I kneel at the knot-tying station and pay close attention to the instructor's hands. If this is going to work, I'll need quick, tight knot-tying skills. I practice with rope first, then string, then even twigs in order to make sure I can do it with really small and stiff objects.

My success will be mainly up to the Gamemakers of course. Either there will be wire at the cornucopia or not; there will be large bodies of water or not; they will be close enough to the forcefield or they won't. But victors have won with less of a plan than this.

 _Willow Whitebeam (17)- D7F_

"I bet you won't go and take the bow and arrow from the Four girl," Seb says, nodding towards the girl. She's been letting arrow after arrow fly, most of them hitting near the bull's eye. We've spent most of our time at the knives, and I can tell he's starting to get bored.

"You haven't even tried these yet, lazy ass," I say, slashing another dummy's stomach open. I've been gradually getting better since she started yesterday, and no one can deny I would make a formidable opponent in close combat.

"And I won't," Seb say flatly. "Knives aren't my thing. But a bow and arrow is a great weapon. It's long distance."

"So are throwing knives, Seb," I say, rolling my eyes. "I'm not going to waste my time trying every weapon when I can master one."

"Fine," Seb jumps down from the railing that he's been sitting on. "But I dare you to go steal it from her. Just for kicks."

I think about it for a moment, and then shrug. I set down my weapons and walk to the bow station, Seb following behind me gleefully. The Four girl shoots another arrow, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Can I have a turn?" I ask, fully expecting her to spit in my face. Instead, she blinks in surprise and hands me the bow, silently leaving for the tridents.

"Well, that was fun," I say sarcastically, handing Seb the bow. "Great dare. I'm going back to my knives now."

"I really thought I was going to get a show," Seb says in wonder.

Suddenly there is a ruckus behind us, the sounds of blades clattering on the floor, someone yelling. We turn to see it's the boy from Two and the Eights again, going at it fiercely.

"Well, you might just get it," I say in amusement, crossing my arms. The trainers immediately run over to separate the two parties, the Two boy insisting that we wasn't going to is reflecting concern and some anger, eyebrows drawn together.

"What is it?" I ask. "Those kids annoy you too?"

"They're only twelve," he says angrily. "I can't believe someone would volunteer to kill do anything, not really. I glance at Seb and see surprisingly that he's not amused. Instead his face children."

"You volunteered," I remind him. He gives me a look and starts toward the Eights. I sigh in a long-suffering sort of way and end up following him, despite everything telling me to go back to the weapons.

"Are you two okay?" I hear him ask, making me want to stab him between the shoulderblades right now. Concerning ourselves with two twelve year olds shouldn't be our priority right now.

"We're fine," the boy says, his weird purple fringe covering most of his face. "Let's go, Sock."

"Wait!" Seb stops them. The two look back with curiosity, though distrust lingers in their eyes.

"What is it?" the boy asks.

"I've seen you two at the weapons stations. You're pretty good."

"Thank you," the girl-Sock- says cooly. "But we don't need your approval."

"I know that," Seb says. "But no one would expect us to team up." He glances over at me. "Willow and I are outer district too, and we're not afraid of the Careers."

"Seb," I say warningly, but he shushes me.

"We'll think about it," the boy says slowly, grabbing the girl's arm and leading her away.

"What are you doing?" I hiss as Seb comes back over to me. "They're so young!"

"They're smart," he says defensively. "And you're right about me volunteering. But I did it to protect people, not to kill them."

"You're ridiculous," I say, turning away. It's almost time to leave anyway. Maybe I can ignore him for the rest of the day.

 **Hello everyone! Here's the second day of training. Only one more day before we get to the private sessions with the Gamemakers.**

 **It occurred to me recently that I didn't include a private sessions section on my tribute profiles. This isn't a huge problem since there was a training strategy and weapon of choice section, but if you would like your tribute to do something in their session that wasn't on their original profile, you can PM me. However, like I said before, I can gather pretty much everything I need from the other sections on the profile, so it is by no means necessary. Just something to keep in mind! Until the next chapter~**


	19. Training: Part 3

_Eryn Winters (15)- D12F_

Rooker is crunching on slices of caramel apple, licking the sticky substance from his lips. Back in Twelve, fresh apples aren't exactly easy to find unless you secretly find some small ones in the forest surrounding the district, and that's illegal. Most of the ones that are sent over to us from Eleven are mushy and mostly flavorless, but here they are ripe and juicy. Rooker seems to be enjoying them, but the caramel ruins them for me. It's not as good as the caramel that my parents make for the shop. I miss eating sweets with every meal, my parents scolding Merylla and I for stealing too many. I sigh heavily. I miss Merylla.

"What is it?" Rooker asks, his eyes wide. He's still afraid to talk to me very often, and I don't think he's spoken to anyone else in the Capitol. Even when his stylist comes around, he's completely silent. Even now he seems nervous.

"I just miss home," I say, messing with the caramel on my plate with my spoon.

He lowers his eyes. "I do too."  
"Alright, everyone!" Effie clucks as she flutters into the room. Today she's dressed in a bright blue dress and makeup that makes her look like a giant blue fish. She swims over to us with a laugh when she sees what we're eating. "You are both so lucky you don't have to stay trim," she huffs. "You can eat as much as you want since the Games will slim you right up!"

The thought is depressing. I wonder if Effie even realizes that we might be dead in a couple of days. She never talks about it, but she's been doing this for years. She's seen plenty of poor Twelve kids disappear into arenas and not come back, but that doesn't curb her enthusiasm.

"It's your last day of training," Effie tells us, as if we don't already know. "So make sure you have all of your skills down-pat. Tomorrow you'll get to show them off to the Gamemakers!"

"We will, Effie," I say. My trapmaking skills are coming along nicely with Triple A's help. The nickname is strange, but he says that it helps him feel at home. His experience with nature and working at his grandmother's butcher shop is going to help us in the arena. He's been trying to teach me which plants and edible and which aren't, and how to disappear into the woods. It's going to help us outlast the other tributes long enough to conserve our energy and make traps. Maybe Effie will finally see a tribute return from the arena.

Rooker is completely silent, staring at his plate. I can't say that better chances of survival isn't the main reason I've allied with Triple A. He's nice and easy to talk to, even though he's quiet. It's different than Rooker, not as nervous.

"We need to go downstairs soon," I say, carefully placing my silverware down onto my plate. My parents always taught me how to be polite. An advantage that comes with being in a merchant family, I guess. "Can't waste any time."

"That's the spirit, Eryn!" Effie cries happily. "Have a great time down there!"

 _Tomas Fields (15)- D11M_

The air around the Training Center is somewhat panicked. It seems everyone has realized this is the last chance they have to master their skills as people flit from station to station, their eyes wide. Of course, Drew is immune to this atmosphere, trapped in his own little bubble. We're at the fire-making station again, finally starting to make progress.

I hold my hands over his to help him feel what he should do, eventually making a fire with the sticks. It's a small victory, but now he's determined to make one by himself. I'm not willing to tell him it might not be possible, seeing as it's a goal of his now. I glance over at the weapons section. They don't have any sickles, really the only weapon that I'm experienced with, but I hope a curved sword will produce the same effect in the arena.

Drew curses as the sticks fall out of his hands again. He hits his fist against the ground in anger, his eyes glaring at nothing. "I need a break," he says abruptly.

"Alright," I say. "What are you thinking?"

"Do you hear that water?"

"Hmm? Water?"

"It sounds like the ocean," he says with longing. "Is there a pool here?"

"I don't think so," I say, looking around. "Maybe it's raining or something."

"It's not that kind of water," Drew says dismissively. "I swear I hear it." He stands shakily, surprising me. "Come on."

"Oh," I say, shocked. "Drew, maybe we should stay here."

"Don't be stupid, I can find it."

He stumbles in the direction of the weapons station, feeling ahead of himself with his hands. It's a whole spectacle for the other tributes, who stop to watch him, gaping. He makes it past the weapons and over to a door on the wall that I've never seen before.

"Drew, maybe we should slow down-"

"It's behind here," he insists, feeling for the handle. The door swings open to reveal a bright blue pool of water, sending shimmery shadows onto the ceiling. "Here it is," he says with a proud smile.

"Damn, you were right!" I exclaim, pushing past him. He struggles into the room and closes the door behind him, still grinning.

"Of course I was. I only lived in District Four my whole life." Suddenly he's taking off his shirt and reaching for my hand. "Let's get in."

" _You_ can get in," I say, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the pool. His foot touches the edge of the pool, making him jump. He leans down to slip off his shoes.

"You don't want to swim? Do people not do that in Eleven?"

"Where would we do it? We're miles from shore."

Drew leaps into the water, drenching me and my clothes. "Holy shit, Drew! You can't see!"

"Doesn't matter if you can see to swim," he laughs, spitting out water. "You just need to feel."

His body cuts through the water like a dolphin, ducking down and back up, grinning from ear to ear. He's clearly been swimming his entire life. I catch myself watching his Four-green eyes, the same as mine. I wonder if he remembers how my eyes look. He probably only say me once, at my Reaping. Would he even notice that I look straight off the streets of Four?

"Get in here!" Drew yells in no particular direction. I sigh as I shed my shirt and shoes.

"Fine, but I can't promise I'll stay."

I move back a little to get a running start, then jump into the pool with a giant splash. The water is deeper than I expected, making me flounder around for a little while before getting a rhythm going with my arms and legs.

"I can swim!" I say with delight. "Did you hear that, Drew?"

"I hear you," Drew says. "I know where we're going to head during the Games."

 _Grizelda "Zel" Weaver (18)- D9F_

I smile to myself as I choose the correct plants yet again in the plants identification test, holding my hand under Reina proudly. I'm going to get her back to her father, no matter what it takes.

The dull thud of a throwing knife finding its home in a target reaches my ears. At the weapons station, the girl from Four is hitting each target with a deadly accuracy. Her gorgeous sea-green eyes stare into her own reflection in one of the knives, her brows drawn together, before it's quickly buried in a dummy's stomach. My hand tightens against my own stomach. I doubt anyone would any kindness would aim for my baby, but I'm sure some of the Careers wouldn't mind putting on a show for the Capitol.

Yesterday I asked our escort about pregnant girls in previous Games. He told me, somberly for once, that there have been only five pregnant girls in the Games before me, and only one has made it past the second day. She lived until the fourth day, when dehydration, hunger, and stress caused her to miscarry. She wasn't able to move for a long time, and eventually a wild bear was attracted to the smell of blood and she was mauled to death. It's a gruesome story, and one that the escort seemed uncomfortable to tell, despite his apparent enthusiasm for everything Hunger Games.

The odds aren't in my favor, and I know that. My heart feels heavy when I press both hands to my stomach. But even if I don't survive, Reina can't die. She needs to get back to our family in Nine. The escort said that none of the girl's babies have ever survived the Games, but I'm determined that mine will.

I move to the trap-making station. If I'm going to feed both of us, I'll need to catch my own food, even if I do manage to snag some from the cornucopia. I manage to make some simple stick traps that can capture a rabbit or maybe something bigger. It will all depend on the arena, but very rarely do the Gamemakers not provide us with prey.

There are more sounds from the weapons section. I glance over and see the boy from Four and his unlikely ally are stumbling around together. Even though no one has officially said it, it's clear something is wrong with his vision. They disappear into the pool room, which is slightly hidden in the back of the Center. No one has gone there this whole time, and the projections that the water sends on the ceiling look awfully refreshing and inviting, but I don't have time to waste on recreational activities. My eyes lineup the tributes who are messing with the weapons. Among them is the Ten pair, the girl waving around a machete at the sword station. She's actually quite proficient with it, and I'm reminded of a plan I've had since the first day of training.

Allying with Triple A would be suicide, but the Ten girl is a worthy ally. Outer district, also eighteen, a good fighter, and clever. She's been practicing all the skills she can, and while her partner is a liability, I can look past it. I find myself standing up.

The pair looks up at me as I approach. The girl's blue eyes narrow, the boy's brown ones widening. He's cute under his mop of ginger curls.

"Hello," I say. "My name's Zel."

"Filly," the girl says. I smile at her, despite her distrustful expression.

"I've been watching you for these last couple of days, and I hope you've been watching me. I'm determined and smart and capable."

"I'm sure you are," Filly says. "But I'm sorry. We can't have a pregnant woman on our team."

"Don't look at me as a pregnant woman," I say indignantly. "See me as someone who will do anything to get home."

"So a threat."

I balk. "That's not what I meant."

"I'm sorry," Filly says, turning away to hack at the dummy again with her machete. The boy watches me with sad eyes as I realize I've been rejected. Humiliated and angry, I head back to the survival stations.

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (18)- D4F_

"This kid is annoying me again!" Rufina hisses as she approaches me. "He thinks he's a big man, I guess. Thinks he has a chance against us."

I glance over at the kid in question, the little one from Three. "Everyone has a chance," I remind her benignly.

"Sure, but messing with me isn't going to _increase_ his chance of survival," she says darkly.

"What did he do?"

"Just won't give up his spear. That little…"

I look closer at Rufina. Her jaw clenches in anger, but underneath I see something in her eyes that tells me she's not just angry with that boy. I know Rufina's sarcasm is a facade, designed to hide her own moral misgivings. I've done it for too long myself not to recognize it.

"He's probably not trying to annoy you," I say, throwing my trident into a dummy's stomach. I imagine someone's guts spilling out of their body.

Rufina looks up at me sharply. "I don't care what he's trying to do," she says through clenched teeth. "He's a nuisance. And you are starting to be one, too. She glares at me. "Lately you've been acting like you don't even want to be here. Maybe you should go team up with Drew and his little buddy." She stomps over to the spears and grabs the boy's spear right out of his hand, throwing it past him into a bull's eye. "Just wait until I do that to you!" she says dangerously.

The boy trembles with fear, his eyes widening behind his glasses. "I-I'm sorry," he says.

"Yeah, you're gonna be," Rufina sneers.

"Why don't you just leave him alone?" It's the boy from Six, Jason. I would recognize him anywhere with his jet black hair, sharp jawline, and handsome blue eyes.

"I'm sorry?" Rufina laughs, clearly not expecting any opposition. I grab onto Marcus' gold chain around my neck as Jason's eyes darken.

"You heard me. Just go back to your own weapons and let the young ones be."

"Are you seriously trying to talk to me right now?" Rufina says incredulously. "Get back to repairing trains, Six."

"You wouldn't be talking to me like that if I graduated from the Peacekeeper Academy," Jason says firmly. "I would be transferred to Two for a while to train and you would have to call me 'sir'."

Rufina strides over to him, looking him in the eyes despite their obvious height difference. Pixel scurries away behind her. "It's a good thing you were Reaped then. Now you won't have to serve me in Victor's Village for the rest of your life." She traipses back to me, glancing back at him to say, "Stop putting a target on your back, Six."

I glare at her as she returns. "You know what, Rufina? You're right. I don't want to be here. Tell the others to count me out of the alliance."

"What?"

I walk over to Jason, who is looking at me with one eyebrow raised. "Let me show you how to use a sword."

"I already know," he says after a moment. "Do you know how to catch your own food?"

"Not as well as I'd like. Let's go."

 _Amelia Waltraud (16)- D5F_

I glance up at Caleb, chewing on my sandwich quietly. Luckily they don't serve us rich foods during training, otherwise I think I would throw up from nerves. Having to keep my secret from Caleb is killing me, but I don't know what else to do. Our father made me promise to never tell anyone, no matter what. I don't know what he would do to my mother if I did.

I miss Elanor. The thought permeates every minute of every day here. I'm not used to talking very much, but Elanor's chatter and the sound of my mother cooking as we read old books in my bedroom have become comforting over the years. I can only hope I'll hear them again.

The ham sandwich I'm eating is good, made with quality bread and smoked ham, as well as some kinds of luxury cheeses I've never heard of before, with fresh vegetables on the side. This meal is probably more expensive than what I eat at Five in a week, but I still miss my mother's cooking. I would trade this sandwich for one of my mother's, made with rough bread and this pieces of ham and nothing else, in a heartbeat.

I glance around the room as I take another bite. Everyone seems surprised to see that now the girl from Four is no longer eating with the other Careers, instead sitting with the guy from Six. The remaining Careers are huddled together over their meal, discussing something in hushed tones.

"It's good that they are splitting up fast," Caleb says. I turn to look at him for a moment before lowering my gaze. I can only hope he doesn't ask one day why I can never look him in the eye. "They're weaker. Easier to take on."

I nod gently, placing a carrot into my mouth and biting down with a too-loud crunch. Everything here is so loud; there's no privacy. I'm not used to living like this. I've been hiding my whole life. Elanor is the only person I didn't have to hide from. I reach up to hold the necklace that she gave me before I left for the Capitol. Somehow I know in District Six, she is wearing the other half of the heart.

"I think after lunch we need to work on our bow and arrow skills a little more, and then the plant identification. How does that sound?"

I nod without looking up. Caleb has taken to asking questions a lot, perhaps hoping I will speak up, but I simply can't go against him.

"Alright." I notice him fiddling with a friendship bracelet on his wrist, his token. I immediately let go of my necklace and focus on my food.

I've been thinking a lot about Caleb's family ( _your family)_ ever since he told me about his sister's death. She would be the same age as me if she had lived. I remember her being Reaped, though the memory is somewhat faded now. I was twelve as well, standing in the same section as her. I didn't know who she was at the time; I had never met my half-siblings. But my father had acted so strangely afterward, always angry and late on his payments, to the point that my mother threatened to tell his wife who I was. Once it had all blown over, the girl long dead, I asked my mother what had happened. She told me everything, and I had felt sick to my stomach for a few days, but then got over it. She might have been my half-sister, but I'd never met her, and she hadn't known I existed. She was hardly family.

I glance up at Caleb. Things might be different with him.

 _Denver O'Casey (14)- D10M_

Filly has been quiet ever since she rejected the pregnant girl from our alliance. She didn't talk to me at all during lunch, and afterward she heads to the weapons area without a word. Her silence is unusual for her, and is reminding me of when Daelyn is in one of her moods, so I decide to go off on my own to the survival stations. I'm not going to be able to use a weapon in the arena anyway, so why bother? I should use my time wisely.

As I make a couple fires at the other end of the room, I watch Filly wielding her machete. She's taken a liking to it in the past couple of days. The sickening sight of the blade's sharp edge makes my skin crawl. I know Filly wouldn't choose to have me in her alliance if I wasn't her district partner, so I guess the ends are somewhat in my favor. But the affair with Zel has left me wondering if she's going to make a reliable ally. Doesn't it make sense to ally with as many people as possible? Sure, she's pregnant, but our forces would be much stronger with her, even if she was a complete weakling like me.

After mastering the fires, I turn to the plant identification. I do my best to choose the correct plant for each name that I'm given, but I swear all of them look the same. Frustrated, I look over at the weapons and realize Filly isn't there. A once-over of the room reveals that she's sitting on a bench to the side of the blades. I decide to go over and talk to her, even though her troubled look is reminding me more and more of Daelyn. Maybe I can try to bring out the better side of her like I can sometimes do with my sister.

"Are you okay?" I ask her, sitting down on the bench. She looks up at me with surprise, like she didn't see me coming over.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry I've been acting so weird. It's the Nine girl."

"Did you change your mind?" I ask hopefully.

"No, no. We're doing the right thing," she says. "I know it's hard to understand, but more allies would just hold us back, especially a pregnant one." She takes a deep breath. "The Games are full of difficult decisions. This is just the first. We can't get hung up on it. Denver."

"I understand," I say gloomily. Maybe Filly is right. We can't afford to make friends or start to care about that girl's baby.

"Hey, do you want to try the maces?" she asks with the characteristic glint in her eye. I've succeeded in bringing her back!

"Well, we can try…" I trail off uncomfortably.

"It's easy. You just swing it around and hit everything you can."

Filly's idea of 'easy' is much different than mine. The maces are heavy and unwieldy, especially the swinging ones. Filly's strong arms swing around the spiky ball with ease, knocking into dummies left and right. The force is enough to tear through some of the hard rubber casing, permanently damaging them.

I've always known that Filly was going to be a great ally, but it's only now occurring to me that she's also a great threat.

 _Rufina Fastolf (18)- D2F_

We've been left with no choice. The Four couple has been incredibly disappointing; their tributes are usually strong, even though their training Academy isn't as prestigious as the One and Two Academies. And Nikki especially seemed promising, given her status as the daughter of two victors. Very rarely does someone like that exist, let alone enter the arena.

But they've both turned out to be pieces of shit the rest of us have to scrape off our shoes.

The Career alliance can't be only four people. Five maybe, six preferably, but not four. I glance at Hadrian and Tiger, who are currently steadfastly ignoring each other. It might become three, or even just me and Tiffany if Tiger can't let go of his stupid grudge.

We have no choice but to ask some of the other tributes to be in our alliance. The debate was long and heated, but we've finally made our decision. The boy from Six would have been our first choice naturally; his Peacekeeper training would come in handy no matter how annoying he is. But that's off the table now. The girl from Ten is strong as well, but she's attached to her little playmate. As such, our best bet is the pair from Seven. They're both strong, capable, and pretty good with their weapons. And fortunately, there isn't a reason they would say no.

Unfortunately, Tiffany and I were the ones chosen to ask them. "Everyone likes girls," Tiger had said suggestively, causing both of us to roll our eyes in annoyance. But he's right in a way. Tiffany and I are very beautiful of course, and the boy will react better to us than another male. And we're not going to say anything stupid to the girl like the guys might. We don't want to scare them off… although, they don't seem like a couple that scares easily.

The two of them are practicing at the throwing knives station, the guy leaning lazily on the wall to the side with his arms crossed. The girl throws a knife into a moving target, seeming pleased with it sticks.

"Hello!" Tiffany chirrups. The two look over with clear surprise, but they're gazes turn dark when they see who we are. "My name's Tiffany and this is Rufina," Tiffany continues. "And I know yours! Sebastian and Willow."

"That's right," Willow says slowly.

"Listen, our alliance has been going through a rough patch. We lost both tributes from Four, and we know how strong you two are. You have the best chances of survival than any of the other outside of our alliance, and within it you'd have even greater chances."

"Are you seriously asking us if we want to join the Careers?" the girl asks incredulously. The boy just stares at us with an indecipherable expression.

"We are," I say, maybe too loudly. Some of the other tributes start to look at us.

The girl stares at us for a little while longer, then shrugs. "Sure."

"Yay!" Tiffany claps her hands together, a blinding smile on her face. "What about you, Sebastian?"

"No offense," he sneers, "but I would rather chisel out my own eyeballs with a fucking spoon, deep-fry them and eat them like meatballs."

Tiffany recoils immediately as I laugh. "You're funny," I say. "Are you sure about this? You know we are the strongest alliance in the Games, right?"

"I know as much as I need to," he growls, sending Willow a dirty look before stalking away.

"Well, that didn't go exactly as planned, but it worked out nicely," Tiffany says, her smile back. She pats Willow on the back. "Welcome to the Careers."

"Well, I'm just glad to be invited," Willow says with a smirk, mimicking Tiffany by putting her hand on her back as well. "There aren't a lot of pretty girls here."

It looks like our plan worked, though not exactly in the way we thought it would.

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

The two of us are sparring with trainers at the swords section when the Seven guy from yesterday walks up to us. He's fuming about something or other, his eyebrows drawn together and face beet-red with anger.

"What is it?" Sock asks before I can stop her. We shouldn't be associating with older tributes, which is what I told her last night after him and his ally approached us. It's probably just a ploy to get close to us and then eliminate us, and even if it isn't, he could easily take us out if it came down to that. He's much bigger than we are.

"It looks like I'll be the only one joining you," he says, seething. "Willow is with the Careers now."

"Who said anything about you joining us?" I ask pointedly, glossing over his other point.

"Don't be ridiculous," he says, taking a seat near the swords. "You need me. You think the two twelve-year olds are going to face the older tributes all on your own?"

"We're not scared to kill," Sock says fiercely.

"I didn't say you were." Seb's sky-blue eyes look deeply into mine. "Just think about it. The training scores will come out soon and then you'll see why I'm valuable."

Atala calls to everyone as she does at the end of every day, and the trainers start putting back their swords. "You'll see," Seb says before turning away and leaving.

I take a deep breath and turn to Sock. "Well, we have to get a good night's sleep for tomorrow."

…

Later than night, Sock and I are sitting in the living room watching the Captiol Square. The people are horrid, but their city is beautiful and the lights mesmerizing. Our escort is off preparing something with our stylists, and our mentors rarely leave their rooms. We're alone together for what feels like the first time in ages.

"Do you think we should let him join us, Tag?" Sock asks, breaking the silence. "He's strong and he was probably a lumberjack. He would know how to use an axe."

"Did you see him using any axes during training?" I ask sharply. "Or doing anything at all? He's nothing but a lazy jerk-off."

"Maybe we should wait for the training scores like he said," she answers quietly.

"Doesn't matter what his training score is. He's a threat. We can only trust each other."

"Who says we trust each other?"

I turn to look at her, one eyebrow raised. She's putting on her warrior face, green eyes expressionless.

"I do trust you," I say. I start to wonder if now would be a good time. Maybe….

"You know how much I trust you? I'm going to tell you a secret. One that you _have_ to keep. You can't tell anyone, not even our mentors."

Sock sighs, clearly not interested. "Okay, whatever. We all have secrets, Tag-"

"I'm not Tag," I say.

She looks up at me sharply. "What?"

"My name is Spool Nylon," I clarify. "Tag Nylon's twin brother. And I'm here to prove the Capitol isn't so foolproof after all."

 **Hello, all! I hope you like this final chapter of training. The next chapter will be the private sessions and the one after that will reveal the training scores, as well as preparations for the interviews.**

 **In the meantime, what did you think of the alliances? Who are your favorite tributes so far? And thank you so much for reading!**


	20. Private Sessions

Hey guys! I hope everyone is okay with what their tribute does in their private session. The training scores will be revealed in the next chapter. This one will be told in Bellona's perspective. Thanks for reading!

Bellona Presque (25)- Head Gamemaker

"Miss Presque, what would you like to order?" Aelia asks me. Her enhanced long eyelashes brush over her cheeks, casting shadows on her face and making her look like a spider.

"No food for me, thanks." I wave her away. "My drink will do."

Seneca had given me lots of advice before handing the Games down to me, and one of them was to avoid alcohol altogether during the season, and not to eat while working. Apparently it was a mistake he made during his first Games that he didn't want me to repeat.

I clasp my ice-filled glass of peach tea between my hands as my Gamemakers chatter around me. I've been in this seating box plenty of times before this, but never in this particular seat. The seat for the Head Gamemaker. Front and center with a wide view of the entire Training Center, the weapons on my right, survival stations on the left with the obstacle course and climbing exercises in the middle. A couple of Avoxes are positioned around the room to help put everything back in place after each session.

I review my notes one last time before he sessions start. The Careers are promising as usual, aside from the blind one. It's a shame, but the disability will certainly cause some drama in the Capitol. He'll be the talk of the town after his interview. As for the rest of the tributes, there are some sponsor-worthy ones as well as bloodbath fodder. But today will really show us who is capable of what.

The pair from Eleven will cause some racket as well. Marcelle says there are already sponsors wondering about the girl. Is she Capitolite? Did she volunteer to win or because she felt bad for the poor Eleven girl? Either will make her popular. Someone like her has never fought in the Games before. The mission that sent her parents from the Capitol to the districts is a fairly new one, and most of the missionaries aren't couples. Children born from them are rare.

As for the boy, he is also light-skinned, which is a great disappointment. Most of the time we can count on Eleven to give us some diversity in the tributes, but now our only ones are the girl from Eight, who is obviously of some Native origin, and the girl from Two, who is Oriental. It will surely draw more attention to them, as well as more to the Eleven pair, but it's still a shame.

We also have two Andersons in these Games, the girl from Four and the boy from Nine. It's not unusual for tributes to have a common name, but it makes sponsoring more difficult. Sometimes the sponsors get confused, and refunds are one hell of a process.

I hear a loud eruption of laughter from the other Gamemakers, already gossiping and joking around. Usually this is a time for feasting and drinking together while facing our tributes face-to-face for the first time. I think for some of them it's too difficult to look a child in the eye instead of on a screen before sending them off to their death, so they choose to make light of it and fool around. I understand the sentiment, but it only means that they aren't developed enough to understand the Games. Those are the Gamemakers that won't last long in this line of work.

I stand and clear my throat, letting my long dark hair hand over one shoulder, curling over my leaf-patterned dress. The others quiet and give me their attention, though some are still giggling in the background.

"I know this isn't the most riveting day at work," I say. "but even as a lesser Gamemaker I always made the effort to pay attention and give accurate judgements of the tributes. I expect the same from all of you." I raise my chin up slightly. "Take notes and give your suggested scores. At the end of the day, I will take them and average them out to find their score. And of course, enjoy yourselves. We have front-row seats to a show with the nation's most beloved celebrities. Don't squander this opportunity."

I nod to Aelia in the back of the booth, signaling to her that she should leave and start letting the tributes in. She won't be able to witness the sessions, since she isn't a Gamemaker, but always makes herself useful to me.

"Well said, Miss Presque," a man says, his face split into a smile.

"Thank you, Livianus." He does good work, but I'm starting to get tired of his constant praise. "Let's begin."

...

"Tiger Emerald, District One!" The automated voice rings around the Training Center, notifying us as to who is about to perform. The Career certainly looks promising, as most of them usually do. His muscular body and broad shoulders will give him an advantage over the other tributes. If the other trainees at the Academy were intimidated enough by him not to volunteer in his place at the Reaping, then he must be the real deal.

Tiger walks straight to the axes, spending quite a bit of time throwing them with near-perfect accuracy into the targets. Any tribute facing him when he has an axe will certainly come out worse for wear, or not at all. After that he spars with a trainer for a few minutes, managing to get him down the ground with Tiger's blade against his neck. Grinning to himself, but not sparing us a glance, he turns to the swords, spears, and combat knives. Then he takes a turn in the obstacle course as a finale. The obstacle course changed each day of training as well as today, but he speeds through it in no time. Before leaving, he bows deeply to us and sends a wink our way.

I write cocky into my notes, alongside each of his activities and his level of success in them. He's capable, certainly. But his range of abilities seem to be contingent on close-combat weapons, with his only long-distance choice being a throwing axe, which isn't exactly easy to carry around. Plus, we don't have anything about his survival skills.

"Tiffany Silk, District One!"

Tiffany waves at us and gives us a smile before beginning her session. She works with the swords at first, sparring with the broadsword, short swords, curved ones, and longswords. After that, she displays her proficiency with knives, also in close combat before throwing them at moving targets. Her aim is impeccable. Then she moves onto the survival stations for the last couple minutes, showing her fire-making, trap-making, and medical skills. She's halfway through plant identification when her time runs out. She makes sure to dip her head respectively and wave again before leaving.

She's quite impressive, but I can't help but feel underwhelmed by her weaponry skills. Swords and knives are usually the most plentiful weapons in the arena, but only showing those two seems like a risky choice. On the other hand, she does seem well-rounded and confident without any arrogance.

"Hadrian Cato, District Two!"

Hadrian is our tallest tribute by far, and one of the most promising. His brother Cassius was a worthy victor and a fan favorite, and Hadrian will surely receive plenty of sponsors based on that fact alone.

He begins with sword-sparring as well, even asking two trainers to take him on at the same time. Though they are obviously some of the best swordsmen in the Capitol, Hadrian has no problem with using a combination of brute strength and instinctive swings to take them both down within minutes. He hasn't even broken a sweat by the time he's finished. He does it again with different trainers, our attention fixed solely on him. Afterward, he grabs a spear and shows off his throws, though they aren't as accurate as they could be due to his large arms. Then he moves to the maces and clubs, which are definitely another one of his strengths. He beats several dummies until they're nothing but rubble underneath his feet.

He runs through the obstacle course with another great time, though not as fast as Tiger's, then shows his trap-making skills. It's an impressive session. His weapon skills are rounded, though long-distance weapons seem to be his weakness. Physical strength is clearly his biggest strength, and certainly comes in handy in the arena.

"Rufina Fastolf, District Two!"

Rufina is short in stature but not in talent. She shows us her spear skills first, probably the best throws we've seen so far. Her sparring is superb as well. She tries with a few other weapons as well, the broadsword and the knives. She's clearly skilled, but the spear is more polished than anything else. After finishing with the weapons, she does some weight-lifting for us, showing that despite her size she's anything but weak. Then she runs through the obstacle course, again with a great time.

She's a tough one, and not without confidence. She waves casually to us before leaving, carrying herself with aplomb. Her skills meet the standard for Careers, but she seems dependant her spears, and her size will be a drawback in the arena. Tributes like Hadrian will bowl her over like a cat catching a mouse.

"Pixel Mackaby, District Three!"

Our first non-Career tribute is the usual disappointment. Three never does have very strong tributes, but it seems even worse after watching four Careers. His spear and knife skills are obviously amateur, but he's learned some in past three days. Some of his throws hit the target, and he shows his slashing skills against some dummies, but doesn't ask to spar. After that, he heads to the plant identification, fire-making, and knot-tying stations. He's clearly not confident in his weapon training, but he seems to have a few survival skills. He gives us a short bow before leaving, his face red as a tomato.

"Tesla Sherman, District Three!"  
Tesla is the opposite of Pixel. She has a cool, calm look on her face that she keeps throughout the session, not looking at us once. She changes things up and starts with the survival stations, going through them one by one. She isn't exactly an expert in most of them, but it's obvious what she's trying to show us: she knows the basics of survival and is capable of living in the wilderness. After every station has been tried, she finishes with the knives. She throws them a couple of times, and though her aim isn't very good, each throw sticks. Then she slashes at several dummies, showing off her hand-to-hand combat skills.

Very well-rounded, though her weapon skills are obviously rusty. Each Gamemaker is hastily scribbling onto their notes as we await the next tribute.

"Andrew de Luce, District Four!"

The Gamemakers shift uncomfortably. It was my decision not to restore his vision, though we could have without anyone knowing. I prefer to adhere to the rules of the Games down to the letter. They were written for a reason… and I can't deny that a blind Career will boost our ratings up quite a bit.

Andrew stumbles into the room, feeling ahead of himself with his hands. It takes him a couple of minutes to find the weapons, and Rowan, who is sitting beside me, yawns in boredom. Once Andrew finally finds the throwing knives, he grabs one and steadies himself, feeling the weight of the handle in his palm. Then he draws his arm back, waits a few seconds, and throws. His aim is way off and the knife clatters to the floor. This doesn't deter him; he grabs another and throws again, this one hitting the humanoid target, but not sticking into the rubber. It hits the floor as well and he lets out a huff. He throws again and again, some of them managing to stick (one of them in a target that's meant for the bow and arrow station), and some of them way off. One almost hits an Avox in the corner of the room, and she skirts away as fast as she can.

After seemingly had enough of that, Andrew turns to the swords and lifts a heavy one, again getting a good grip on it before starting to swing. Although he doesn't hit any dummies due to his blindness, the movements are precise and polished. For a moment it almost seems that he isn't blind at all. Then the timer goes off and he drops the sword to the ground, starting to storm off in the wrong direction until an Avox shows him the right way.

Interesting. His training is apparent, but will that really make up for lack of sight in the arena?

"Nicolette Anderson, District Four!"

Whereas Tiffany fills the "pretty" Career spot, Nicolette is definitely the "sexy" Career. Her long brown hair spills down her long, tan body as she walks straight to the weapons section. She begins with a trident, a specialty for District Four. Her skills are impeccable, managing to spear her targets through the throat and stomach nearly every time. Then she moves on to the knives, throwing them and slashing with great aim and precision. She spends just a little time on the swords, asking a trainer to spar with her for a couple minutes. Then she heads to the survival section, where she makes a fire, a couple different traps, bandages, and identifies several plants. She finishes by running through the obstacle course, giving us the quickest time we've seen yet.

It's a very impressive session, and she looks like she knows it when she waves goodbye to us with a smirk.

"Caleb Odalric, District Five!"

Caleb begins with survival skills, showing us his fire-making, plant identification, and camouflage skills. He does fairly well, though it obvious his training is rudimentary. He then switches to the bow and arrow, where he shoots a couple of arrows, most of them hitting the target, though usually not near the bull's eye. After that, he throws some spears, with which he is clearly more skilled. Each spear-point hits the target, many of them in the range of the bull's eye. Seeming pleased with himself, Caleb finishes with sparring against a trainer with a combat knife. He does well at this too, managing to hit the trainer several times with the dull sparring knife. His time runs out soon after and he gives us a friendly wave before leaving.

I hastily finish writing my notes before the girl arrives. He has a wide range of skills, and he is certainly old enough to go far. He's large in stature and well-versed in weaponry for a non-Career.

"Amelia Waltraud, District Five!"

Amelia scurries into the room, her face covered by his long blonde hair. She heads straight to the throwing knives, showing off everything she's learned. Her skills are rusty, but her aim isn't too off and her focus is admirable. Most of the knives stick into the target, only two clattering to the floor. She then shows her combat skills with the knives, also asking a trainer to spar. She surprises me with her speed; the trainer can hardly touch her with his blade before hers is already at his neck. After sparring, she shoots some arrows like her district partner, with about the same level of accuracy.

Then she seems to be done with the weapons and heads to the survival section. She shows the same skills Caleb did: fire-making, plant identification, and camouflage. As she moves from station to station, she's light on her feet and completely focused on the task at hand. When the timer runs out, she glances up at us with something like fear before leaving, not offering a goodbye.

"Jason Sparks, District Six!"

The Peacekeeper. I wouldn't be surprised if Jason gave the Careers a run for their money in the arena. I lean forward to watch as he heads for the plant identification station. He does fairly well, then moves on to fire-making, trap-making, and medical knowledge. They're all mediocre, but still worth presenting. Then he arrives at the weapons. He begins with the spears, all of them landing with the range of the target and most of them in the bull's eye. Then he graduates to the swords, trying his hand at both broadswords and short swords. He's able to knock both sparring partners to the floor in no time. Then he finishes with a weight-lifting session, showing his incredible strength that only comes with intense training.

He's another one of our tallest, more powerful tributes for sure. As he leaves with a grim smile, I jot down the different weights that he lifted and how much he struggled through each one.

"Antonia Montgomery, District Six!"

Antonia doesn't spare us a glance during her session, heading straight for the survival stations and doing her best at each one. She makes fires, traps, nets, and identifies plants. Then she paints some camouflage onto herself and wraps her limbs in bandages with correct medicines before moving on to the weapons. She tries the spears first, but her aim isn't very good. She spends a long time aiming each spear before finally throwing it, and although a few hit the target, that time could mean life or death in the arena. It's the same with the bow and arrow that she tries. Too long is spent stringing her bow and aiming, time that could be spent elsewhere.

As she leaves, I collect my thoughts. Her survival skills are impressive and will help keep her alive for a while, but her weapon experience is limited. If she had to protect herself from an oncoming enemy, she would be dead in no time.

"Sebastian Cassara, District Seven!"

Sebastian waltzes into the room slowly, taking his time on the way to the weapons section. He looks around at the available options, almost as if he didn't plan what he was going to do. Eventually, he retreats back to the knot-tying station, where he grabs some twine and, inexplicably, starts prying some nails out of the wooden frame surrounding the plant identification station. Several Gamemakers lean forward quickly, trying to see if he's attempting to destroy the Training Center, which sometimes happens in these sessions.

But it seems destruction isn't his goal; he wraps the twine around the nails and his hand, one nail for each knuckle, then ties it tight and flexes his fingers. I'm starting to realize what he's planning as he struts back to the weapons, clenching and unclenching his fist. He motions to a trainer at the sword section to spar with him, which he hesitantly does. Though the trainer has a short sword, Sebastian is quick on his feet and manages to dodge nearly every swing, only a few nicking his shoulders. But this hardly seem to matter when he uses his strength and speed to strike the trainer's stomach with his makeshift nail-knuckles, throwing him off course and leaving his neck open and exposed. Sebastian grabs him by the hair and puts his nails to his throat, smirking.

"That's enough." My voice rings out, bouncing off the far walls. Sebastian lets go of the trainer, who is bleeding slightly through his shirt and breathing heavily. The tributes aren't supposed to cause actual harm to anyone, but the trainer isn't seriously hurt. He leaves with an Avox at his side, holding his stomach. Sebastian doesn't seem too concerned, taking off his homemade weapon and throwing it on the ground. He asks another trainer to wrestle empty-handed, which ends in Sebastian coming out on top. Then he retires to the obstacle course, which he runs through with an admirable time.

His session is certainly one of a kind. He doesn't show us any real weapons or survival skills, but something tells me it was on purpose. He has guts, something that many tributes, even some Careers, don't have. And his strength and speed and admirable, to say the least. What's more is that he's incredible attractive. Sponsors will be lining up to see him crowned.

"Willow Whitebeam, District Seven!"

Willow comes into the room with a smile, waving at his amicably. She begins with the knives, showing the throwing skills first before hand-to-hand. She's clearly better at throwing; hitting the target nearly every time with several in the bull's eye. As for sparring, her trainer beats her the first time, but she comes out on top easily the second time. It seems she thrives under pressure, because after that she takes another trainer down as well.

Then she heads to the survival stations, where she shows several strengths. Her fire-making, trap-making, medical skills, and plant identification are all satisfactory. Then to finish up, she runs the obstacle course with an admirable time, though she does fall once. She's just as friendly when she leaves as when she came in, waving cheerily. I gather my notes before Eight starts. Her survival skills are up to par, but she only seems comfortable using knives, which could be a problem. Though, unlike most tributes who panic in the face of danger, she rises to meet the occasion. It's certainly a useful trait.

"Tag Nylon, District Eight!"

Ah, poor District Eight. Stuck with the only two twelve-year olds in the Games. Statistically speaking, they don't have any worse chances then thirteen-year olds, but it still sounds worse. Tag doesn't seem perturbed by this face, however, heading straight to plant identification with no problems. He clearly knows what he's doing, identifying edible plants, poisons, and everything in between. Then he moves to the medical station followed by the trap-making station. He's fairly good in those as well.

After this he goes to the weapons, where he shows his skills with a short sword. He even asks a trainer to spar with him, holding him back pretty well, though eventually the battle ends in a stalemate. Then he moves to the archery section, where he shows some decent skills with a bow and arrow. After that he finishes everything up with an obstacle course run.

I can tell it will take everyone a long time to score Tag. He's small and young, which leaves him without much of a chance against the older tributes. But he has a well-rounded skill set and can hold his own in a fight.

"Sock Northsilk, District Eight!"

Sock isn't nervous at all, either. These twelve-year olds certainly have some guts. She heads straight for the weapons and tries her hand at many of them, namely the spears. Unlike most tributes, she shows not only her throwing abilities but also her hand-to-hand fighting with them. These are clearly her best weapon, though her skills elsewhere are also somewhat satisfactory. She shows her capability with knives and axes, both in ranged ability as well as hand-to-hand, and then tries to wield a mace. Despite his weight, she holds it up easily and batters a dummy into the ground. By the time she's finished, she's out of breath and sweaty, but still holding herself together. She finishes with some plant-identification before her time runs out, most of it spent using weapons.

Her strategy is indeed very rare for a young tribute; most of them don't even touch the weapons or maybe just one, but they seemed to be her main focus. But that will only come in handy if she knows how to take care of herself in the wilderness, which we can't be sure of.

"Albert Anderson, District Nine!"

Our second Anderson starts with some plant identification, which is nearly perfect. Either he has prior experience with such activities, or he is simply a quick learner. It takes almost no time before he's heading to the knives. He throws them with impressive speed, most of the them sticking into the target. He then shows some close combat skills against a dummy, both with knives and a short sword. He seems to have prior experience with blades as well, which is very interesting. He might have learned most of these skills through illegal activities, which is off-putting, but it's not like it matters now. Anything will help in the arena.

He finishes his session with an average run through the obstacle course, though it's still impressive considering his age. Overall, his skills are well-rounded and he seems capable of taking care of himself.

"Grizelda Weaver, District Nine!"

Grizelda walks in with her gaze fixed on the plant identification station. She spends a great deal of time there, during which she is mostly successful, before heading to the fire-making, medical, and camouflage stations. To finish things up, she slashes some dummies with a knife, then throws a few with mediocre success. She doesn't try to draw attention to the fact that she's pregnant, which is good. I hate it when the tributes try to start pity parties for themselves. However, her survival skills are fairly average and her weapon-wielding is less than satisfactory. But she is one of the older tributes, and seems determined.

"Denver O'Casey, District Ten!"

Denver is a nervous one; it's easy to tell. He tries to avoid our eyes, but keeps glancing up at us as if he can't help it. He sticks to the survival stations, not even glancing at the weapons. His fire-making is sub-par, but he does know how to tie a knot and therefore how to make traps. His plant identification skills are rusty but passable. He treats a few hypothetical wounds in the medical station, then moves to the camouflage. None of his skills particularly stand out, and his nervousness doesn't help. He seems like he might faint at any minute, but he manages to finish his session.

"Filly Marcoffe, District Ten!"

Filly is the opposite of Denver; she comes in with a light smile and heads right to the swords. She starts with a machete, which is an interesting choice. However, she can clearly hold her own against a sparring partner and is clearly comfortable with the weapon. She also shows some skill with a broadsword, though her movements aren't as precise. She tries several other weapons as well, including the bow and arrow, knives, an axe, and spears. She isn't afraid to take risks while fighting, She clearly doesn't have prior experience with them, but she's muscular and fearless, making her a formidable opponent.

After she finishes with the weapons, she heads to the survival section and shows some plant identification and trap-making. She's learned a lot in training, for sure, but her skills aren't the most polished out of the ones we've seen.

"Tomas Fields, District Eleven!"

Tomas, the boy who knocked the Reaping ball off the stage. It was a risky move, and one that might land him in trouble in the arena if President Snow decides he's too rebellious. But so far the sponsors seem to like his feistiness, taking his action more as a showcase of guts than a defiance of the Hunger Games.

Tomas avoids our eyes like many outer-district tributes do, heading straight for the fire-making station and showing us his astounding skill. He either has been making fires his whole life or he's spent a lot of time there in training. After making quite a few fires using different strategies, he makes a few traps, which he is average at, and identifies some plants correctly. Then he heads over to the weapons section, choosing a curved sword. He doesn't ask to spar, but he is clearly comfortable with the weapon in his hand, slicing open several dummies before putting it away and choosing a short sword. This one he is less skilled with, but he has learned some over the last three days. Before leaving, he throws the sword down on the ground rather than putting it back and doesn't spare us a glance.

As an Avox carefully places the sword back on its shelf, I can't help but feel disappointed by his session. A feisty boy like Tomas would receive many sponsors if he performed well in his private session, but it seems he either didn't learn a lot or just doesn't care that much.

"Marjoram Paella, District Eleven!"

Marjoram gives us a grin and a smile as she walks into the room, her dark brown hair pulled into a Capitol-style ponytail. I can feel some of the Gamemakers beside me shifting uncomfortably. It's strange to think that if Marjoram had been born in the Capitol before her family moved to Eleven, she wouldn't be eligible for the Reaping. But these thoughts are pointless to pursue; her parents chose to give birth to her there, and now she has a chance to prove her worth to the entire nation. It's an honor.

Marjoram begins with plant identification, which she is very good at, like most Eleven tributes. After finishing the exercise in its entirety, she makes some fires, traps, and medicines. She is less adept with these, though that is to be expected. After finishing with the survival section, she heads to the knives, throwing them and sparring with a partner. Her aim is alright, and she seems slightly afraid to do anything other than defend herself in the fight, but she does fairly well. Then she graduates on to the swords, showing her average skills with a short sword before finishing with a satisfactory obstacle course run. She leaves with another friendly smile and wave, like we've known each other all our lives.

She has a wide range of strengths, but is mostly average at nearly all of them. The only activity that stands out is her plant identification, but that by itself won't keep her alive.

"Rooker Holm, District Twelve!"

Rooker is shaking when he walks into the room, his hands trembling as he attempts to make a fire for the first couple of minutes. He succeeds eventually and moves on to plant identification, which he does fairly well. Then he goes to the weapons section, where he chooses a spear and shows us some throwing. His aim isn't the best, but some of the throws stick into the target, and he gets better as time goes on. Then he moves to the archery station, which is worse than the spears but still passable. He doesn't seem to have much experience with combat weapons and only ranged ones, but at least he learned something and could probably injure a tribute that was running toward him. He finishes with a run through the obstacle course, receiving an average time. As he exits the room, he's no longer shaking and even looks a little pleased with himself.

"Eryn Winters, District Twelve!"

Eryn is shy as well, but more focused. She only shows us survival skills and no weapons, a risky choice. Her plant identification and trap-making are superb, however, and she has clearly learned quite a bit. She then shows every other survival skill, which she is average at. But even if we don't know if she can use a weapon, I'm sure she will have no problem surviving in the wilderness. After she finishes at the camouflage station, she leaves with her head bowed.

The lights in the Training Center slowly dim as the Avoxes and trainers start to pack up the weaponry and close down the survival stations. They won't be used again until this time next year, and will likely undergo some renovations in the meantime.

"An interesting batch," Rowan says beside me. "The viewers are going to love them."

"Yes, but don't base your scores off of popularity," I remind everyone as they stand up and stretch their muscles. They mumble in agreement under their breath, obviously ready to leave. "Let's head to the Gamemaking Center to average our scores and send them to the network."

I turn to Marcelle, whose dyed pink eyes are filled with boredom. "Once the scores are announced, the sponsors will be clambering over one another to send in their money. Your team will need to be ready for that."

"I know, Bellona," Marcelle says with a yawn. "I'm the head of sponsorships. I now my duties."

"Just make sure everything's ready. Let's go."

Hey everyone! This chapter might be a little boring, but I think it's useful for you as sponsors to see exactly what each tribute can do, and what goes into the process of choosing a Training Score. What do you think your tributes or your favorites will get? Who surprised you and/or impressed you? Until next chapter~


	21. Training Scores

_Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

I'm sitting in the living room with my stylist and mentor, going over my interview strategy, when the escort comes to tell us that the training scores are starting to air. I pull my skirt over my knees and cross my legs, eager to see my score. It's going to determine what I'm going to say in my interview, which is my main focus now. It will determine everything about how I do in the arena. Once the sponsors see who i am- my competitiveness, my fairness, my beauty- they will want to sponsor me for sure.

"Hurry and tell Tiger!" I tell the escort excitedly. I feel jittery from anticipation. I've been waiting for this moment for years and years. Everyone in Panem is gathering around their television right now to see how ready I am for the Games. I try not to twirl my hair between my fingers, a nervous habit I'd picked up a while ago. My hair is meticulously done as usual, and I've changed from my training outfit to a Capitolite style blouse and shorts, with a unique One flair in my jewelry. The sapphire necklace I'll take into the arena is the centerpiece of the outfit, just as it will be for my interview outfit. I like to dress up to make a good impression on everyone in the Training Center. Letting myself go wouldn't help anyone.

I try not to turn my nose up when Tiger enters the room wearing a gray shirt and sweatpants, munching on an apple. His eyes light up when he sees the Hunger Games logo on the television, taking the final bite and throwing the core on the ground for an Avox to pick up. I move over slightly as he sits down next to me, making sure my skirt is still arranged nicely.

"Can't wait to see the look on your face when I score a twelve," he says to me.

"I hope you're joking, "I huff. "I'm taking this seriously, unlike you."

"I am serious. Just stuck up."

I roll my eyes and look at the TV. The scores will be shown any minute now.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Claudius Templesmith's voice booms through the TV. "May the odds be ever in your favor." The screen shows a District One crest, followed by Tiger's score.

"A nine?!" Tiger slams hisfist down onto the glass coffee table in front of us. "Are you kidding me?!"

I keep my mouth shut until the screen shows my score as well, alongside a beautiful picture of me in my training outfit. "Tiffany Silk, a nine."  
"It's an admirable score," I tell him. "We both have good chances." I'm saying just as much for myself as for Tiger. Nines are great scores, but a Career can always hope for a ten or the incredibly rare eleven. Of course, our odds depend on the scores than everyone else receives, especially the other Careers. I tell myself it's not against the spirit of the Games to wish lower scores on my competitors. The odds are the most important part of what makes a tribute a victor.

"From District Two… Hadrian Cato with a score of ten."

My heart sinks, but I try to tell myself it's not that big of a deal. He's a large, bulky guy. That's probably why he got a different score than Tiger and I.

"Rufina Fastolf with a score of nine."

Looks like Rufina is in the same boat we are. Since Four is no longer in our alliance, and Willow is unlikely to receive a high score due to her lack of prior training, that makes Hadrian the strongest in our pack. I can imagine the sponsors lining up now.

I notice Tiger flexing his hands into fists and back out again, over and over. "That Hadrian just keeps taking from us, huh?" he comments darkly.

"Don't start this again," I say. "We have to stick together."

 _Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F_

Pixel is shaking beside me, his legs jolting up and down anxiously. I can hear his teeth grinding together from here.

"Will you be quiet?" I ask with annoyance. "I'm trying to hear our scores."

"Sorry," he mumbles, his legs ceasing movement. I roll my eyes and focus on the television again. We've been talking for hours about my interview angle, and I'm sick of it. Who cares what these monsters think of me? I know sponsorships can mean life or death, but I've always taken care of myself just fine. If the Capitol wants to get to know me, then they have to work for it.

"Your scores are coming!" our escort shrieks suddenly, clapping her hands together. "Pay attention, everyone!"

Everyone's voice here is so grating. The escorts, Claudius Templesmith, the trainers, everyone. I'm tired of listening to their hissing snake voices. I would give anything to hear my father's voice again.

"From District Three… Pixel Mackaby with a score of four."

Pixel doesn't give any outward reaction to the announcement, his teeth still grinding endlessly, eyes wide.

"That's good, Pixel!" our mentor smacks him on the arm and he flinches. "With a score like that, you're in the running."

He nods, drawing in a large, stuttery breath. "Good luck, Tesla," he says, glancing over at me with undisguised fear. At least one of my competitors is afraid of me.

I say nothing, listening for the next announcement.

"Tesla Sherman, six."

A six. That's definitely passable. It's not too low for sponsors to take interest, but not so high that the higher-scoring tributes will see me as a threat. I can work with that during the interviews. Provide some intrigue and open-ended answers that leave them wanting more while still proving myself capable.

"From District Four… Andrew de Luce with a four."

A four from the blind guy? I was expecting him to get a two, or maybe even a one. He must have done something to impress them. I thought we had one less Career to worry about, but he might stand a chance after all. I glance at Pixel just slyly enough that he doesn't notice. He's blushing a little, not undeservedly. Scoring the same as a newly-blind idiot from Four can't feel good. And at least Drew has weapons training.

"Nicolette Anderson… ten."

Another ten. It's the second one so far, and we're not even halfway through yet. But she is a Career, though she might not be in the alliance anymore. I can only hope this means she won't be hunting down tributes. She and the Careers can kill each other off and then I can swoop him and claim the crown.

 _Caleb Odalric (18)- D5M_

Amelia looks incredibly nervous, her cheeks puffed up like she's holding her breath. I want to try to comfort her, but I'm not sure how. A higher training score for either of us means more competition for the other, but also a higher chance of survival since we are allies. It's a tricky line to walk.

"Everything will be fine," I settle on, showing her my best smile.

She gives me half a smile in return, her blonde hair falling over her eyes in a way I think is purposeful. She hardly ever responds to anything I say, but I think it's more because she's too shy then because she doesn't like me. She readily agreed to my alliance, which is enough of an answer for me.

"From District Five…"

Amelia squeezes my hand tight.

"Caleb Odalric with a score of eight."

"An eight!" our escort says happily. "That's great, Caleb!"

"Thank you," I say politely. I was hoping for something higher, but an eight isn't too bad. It will get the attention of sponsors in a way I'm sure I won't be able to replicate in my interview. The mentors want me to be friendly and charming, saying it comes naturally to me, but I don't see it. I can be friendly and kind, but I'm far too shy to be charming. And most of the material I have revolves around my sister, which I would really hate to talk about to the audience that sent her to her death.

"And now for Amelia Waltraud, a six."

Amelia lets out a happy sigh next to me. It's one of the few times I've ever seen her genuinely smile. It's a pretty sight that reminds me of someone else that I know, but I can't quite remember who.

"That's a good score," I commend her. "I told you everything would be fine."

"I didn't say it wouldn't be," she says, her grin widening. I suppress a laugh and draw my attention back to the screen.

"From District Six… Jason Sparks with a score of nine."

Another nine. That can't be good. It seems our competition is steadily increasing. I catch Amelia worrying on her lip again with her teeth, but she stops when she sees me watching.

"And Antonia Montgomery with a score of five."

Not bad, but not an immediate threat either. Still, the picture of Attie that they show next to her score gives me the creeps, just like the real person that I saw in training. Too often I would catch her staring at someone with a strange dead look on her face only to erupt into a smile when they turned to look at her. Something about her makes me uneasy. I wonder if she's trying to downplay her skills, like Johanna Mason did a few years ago.

Jett pads over to me and places his head on my lap, his eyes wide and searching, perhaps sensing my inner turmoil.

"Thank you Jett," I whisper, patting the black fur on his head.

"You two will both do very well, I can feel it," our escort says, sounding pleased. I don't have the heart to tell her that it won't matter how "well" we do if we don't win. We'll be dead no matter what place we get, unless it's first.

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

Willow is popping grapes into her mouth, sucking on her fingers obnoxiously. When she sees me looking, she offers the bowl to me, asking, "You want some?"

"No thank you." I sneer. Turning back to the television. Despite our breaking apart alliance-wise, Willow's attitude towards me hasn't changed much, something I can't comprehend. Her joining the Careers- those _killers_ \- is unforgivable. She even had the audacity to make up names for Tag and Sock, like they weren't children that she was prepared to kill in cold blood.

"You still pressed about Sock-puppet and Tag-along?"

"Leave me alone."

"That's exactly what I'm doing, and you're pressed about it! God, it's like you can't make up your mind."

"At least I didn't sell out to a bunch of murderers," I hiss.

"They haven't murdered anyone yet," Willow says, unconcerned. The casual way she says it hits me like a truck and I'm suddenly struck with the image of my father's lifeless body huddled beneath me on the kitchen floor, a bloody knife in my hand. I shudder and try to pull myself out of it before anyone notices.

"And from District Seven… Sebastian Cassara with a score of ten."

I'm suddenly snapped back into reality, more adrenaline being pumped into my veins.

"Holy shit, a ten?" Willow exclaims. "Well, I guess Twine and whatever her name is will get to sit back and let you do all the work.."

"Everything you just said was wrong," I say distastefully.

"A ten will earn you sponsors, Seb," Johanna says from her chair a few feet away. I'm surprised she's still able to talk. She's been drinking all day in preparation for the interviews tomorrow. "You must have impressed them. What did you do?"

"Just showed them what I'm capable of," I say, leaning back and crossing my legs.

"Ugh," Willow says, popping another grape into her mouth. "Whatever. It's not a twelve, Mr. Macho."

"And for Willow Whitebeam, an eight."

"An eight!" Willow pumps her fist into the air several times. "That's what I'm talking about!"

"An eight is nothing," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't jizz all over the Gamemakers' faces like you apparently did," she says sarcastically, gesturing toward the way I'm sitting. "I just have actual talent. And not arrogance."

Memories of our first fight on the train ride to the Capitol start to come back, and I bristle. I should have known this was never going to work out.

"And now for District Eight… Tag Nylon with a score of eight."

I burst out laughing, unable to help myself. Wiping tears from my eyes, I look over to see Willow keeping her face completely neutral. "Good to know talent gets you an eight!" I choke out. "Looks like Tag-along will be pulling his own weight in the arena."

"Whatever, he's still twelve," Willow says, obviously unhappy.

"For Sock Northsilk, a seven."

A seven isn't bad either. Looks like I chose my allies wisely. I knew from watching them in training that they were serious opponents, but I didn't realize just how well they were doing in the eyes of the Gamemakers. Now all that's left is for them to accept my proposal, which they certainly will. Together we'd make an unstoppable team.

"Willow…" I say softly, the image of my father still fresh in my mind. "You don't have to go with the Careers. We'll take you back if you want. An alliance of four with our scores will have no problem facing off with the others."

"Don't be stupid, jizzmaster," Willow says, curling in on herself. "I've made my decision. Time you accepted it."

 _Albert "Triple A" Anderson (13)- D9M_

I miss Eryn. Zel is too hard to talk to since she's apparently taken a vow not to speak to anyone who isn't her ally. And from what I've seen, she hasn't been successful in her search. It's too bad. She might have been Reaped, but her baby wasn't .

"You know, I would go with Nathaniel or Clara for a name," I say quietly, gesturing toward her belly.

She huffs and looks away. "She already has a name. Reina."

"Oh," I say with surprise. "That's pretty. I want a daughter named Clara, so I just thought I'd give you some choices."

"You want children?" Zel asks me, sounding surprised.

"Of course. Who doesn't?"

Zel looks down at her stomach, her hand rubbing over it. "Well, we're both here. Our parents chose to bring us into this world and now they'll outlive at least one of us."

"That's a chance that we have to take, though," I say. "What would anyone's life be like without their family?"

Zel looks up at me, her eyes a little glazed. "Thank you, Triple A," she says softly.

"From District Nine… Albert Anderson with a score of seven."

A seven! That's not bad at all. In fact, it's incredible for a thirteen-year old. The pair from Eight also had high scores, but I can't focus on what everyone else got. My chances will speak for themselves.

"And Grizelda Weaver with a five."

"A five…" Zel murmurs under her breath, her hand still moving slowly across her stomach.

"That's a good score!" I encourage her. "Enough to draw attention to you without being a threat. People will see you have potential."

"It doesn't matter," she says, sounding disgusted. "I'm going to win no matter what score or how many sponsors I have. I can do this on my own."

"I'm not saying you can't," I assure her. No one would like to get on her bad side in the arena. She might have a chance regardless of her odds.

"From District Ten… Denver O'Casey, with a score of two."

Finally a really low score. The lowest so far. It's a shame for Denver, but makes the rest of us look better. The poor kid must not have much going for him. We can only hope his death is quick.

"And Filly Marcoffe with an eight."

Another eight. Filly has proven herself to be strong, so this doesn't surprise me. She's been sticking with her district partner for most of the training, so I can't help but wonder if she's regretting that choice now. He obviously doesn't have anything to bring to the alliance.

Now I only have to watch for Eryn's score. I know she will probably score somewhere in the middle like me and Zel, but it's going to matter exactly where. She's older than me, so she'll probably do better; at least that's what I've been telling myself. Besides, she's so beautiful the Gamemakers might just give her a twelve based on that alone. With her wavy blonde hair and pretty hazel eyes, she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

 _Tomas Fields (15)- D11M_

"From District Eleven… Tomas Fields with a score of six."

"Wow, Tomas, good job!" Jo congratulates me with a pat on the shoulder. "That's a great score."

"Oh, bite me," I say, matching her sweet tone. I know she's just trying to play the typical Capitol girl and get on everyone's good side. She's been doing ever since her mentoring session this morning with Seeder. The Capitolites don't usually respond well to begging or pleas for sympathy during the interviews; common opinion says they're ungrateful and unpatriotic. But playing up the Capitol aspect of her identity will make the sponsors arrive at the same conclusion: that Jo doesn't deserve to die since she's Capitolite.

It's a shame considering how most of the time is dedicated to finding Jo sponsors than thinking about my own. I can't blame Seeder since they were friends before the Games, but even my own mentor has little interest in me. Jo is older, more sympathetic to the Capitol, and not as problematic. Who wants to mentor the guy that destroyed the Reaping ball? I bet the Capitol is ready to see my insides cut out by a bloodthirsty Career. Interview be damned.

"Marjoram Paella with a score of seven."

"A seven!" Jo squeals, for a second her real persona shining through as she stands and jumps up and down. "That's on the upper end of the scores!"

"We'll see what Twelve gets," I mutter. I guess I'll be overshadowed by Jo in every way, even by her Training Score. The only chance I have is Drew. Even though he's blind, he has weapons training that he can teach me in the arena. He knows how Careers think and how they respond to certain situations. He has the brain and I have the eyes, and together we'll make an unstoppable team. I can just feel it.

"From District Twelve, Rooker Holm with a score of four."

So it turns out Drew has the same score as several of the younger tributes. It's incredibly reassuring; I thought he was going to get a two or maybe even a one. But instead he has the same chance as a younger tribute that can still see.

"And Eryn Winters with a four."

Another four. It's not a bad score, but not particularly good either. Most of the tributes are average, it seems. Only one two and no threes. There are no real outliers except for Denver, who scored the lowest. The Sevens scored high, which I expected. The Eights also did surprisingly well, but it's probably due to their cleverness than actual skill. They're too small to do any real damage. As for the Peacekeeper from Six, a high nine. The girl from Ten and guy from Five also did well. The competition is starting to take shape, and I don't want to be left out of that shape.

"Alright, everyone," Seeder says, clapping her hands together. "Let's get to bed, preparations for the interviews will start first thing in the morning."

"Good night, Seeder!" Jo chirps, and I could be hearing things but she might be doing a slight Capitol accent. Rolling my eyes in disgust, I leave for my room without a word.

 _Antonia "Attie" Montgomery (16)- D6F_

I knew as soon as I was Reaped that this would be my least favorite part of the Games. Except for the actual Games, of course… but I'm starting to think this is worse.

Matching my stylists' energy is an incredibly exhausting affair. Luckily doing it to Jason would be pointless considering he already knew who I was, or I would feel like this all the time. But I know that getting the stylist to like me will increase my chances of getting a better outfit, and any favors that I might want.

It's a strategy that will hopefully get rid of the ridiculous giant bow my she's placed at my right shoulder.

"Really, I think it will be too tacky," I plead as I watch her stitch the decoration onto my dress. "It's too distracting!"

"It's all the rage in the Capitol, don't worry," she says in her strange accent. "Everyone will love you!"

I sigh heavily, turning back to the mirror. The light baby-blue dress im wearing is actually quite pretty when you take away the satin flowers that stitched all over the fabric. There's a large slit up the left side that shows enough leg to entice viewers without being obvious. The color matches my eyes, and my bright red hair is more noticable. It looks like something Davina would wear before she got involved with the Ring.

"I don't think this goes with what I'm going to show the Capitol!" I say, trying to sound chipper. "I just want o be authentic!"

"What are you talking about?" the stylist laughs, her weird cat-eyes slimming when she does so. It's creepy and unsettling, but I try to keep my pouty smile. "You're lovely! It matches your personality perfect."

I sigh again. Sometimes my plans backfire on me. The stylist leaves for a few minutes after the flower is affixed to my shoulder. I take a seat on the plush cushion beside the mirror and take a bite of my gourmet pasta. I'd never had pasta before coming to the Capitol, but I've taken a liking to it. The escort said we shouldn't eat all day before going on the stage in order to look slimmer, but I couldn't care less. I've never eaten so richly than I have in the past few days. I'm going to miss it in the arena, but once I get out, I'll be able to eat whatever I want.

My dressing room is possibly the most luxurious place I've been per square inch. Despite its small size, the walls are covered with pure gold decorations, cherry-wood tables covered in glass vases filled with dyed flowers that release a sickly-sweet scent into the room. The chandelier above us looks like its made of real crystal.

After a while, the stylist is back to add finishing touches to my makeup, which is minimal with some light blue eyeshadow and highlighting. Truthfully, if it weren't for the bow flower on my shoulder I would feel like a rich person from Six instead of a Capitolite. They do exist, no matter how rare.

I'm taken into the hallway, where the rest of the tributes are waiting in their costumes. These aren't supposed to be costumes, but most of them are too ridiculous to be a glamorous outfit. I'm one of the first girls that are ready, due to the simplicity of my dress. The guys are pretty much all lined up in the hallway, awaiting their chance to speak to the famed Caesar Flickerman. Luckily, Tesla is there as well. I walk up to her with a purposeful blank expression.

"Hey," I say quietly.

She turns to look at me. If she's surprised to see me, her face doesn't show it. She's wearing a birth yellow dress that's made of the same material as a fancy raincoat, her black hair pulled into a ponytail with shorter parts curled around her face in ringlets. She's actually quite pretty, but I know she wouldn't want me to tell her that.

"Hey, Attie," she intones. That's the most I get, which is fine with me. I chose my ally well.

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (18)- D4F_

I'm sitting in my dressing room, practicing my laugh in the mirror when the door opens. "I told you, I don't want a different necklace. This one was my brother's."

"Was it?"

My neck whips around so quickly I feel it crack. Jason is the one standing there in the doorway, not my stylist. He's wearing a dark blue velvet suit that matches his eyes over a black turtleneck, and a bright smile.

"Hey, Jason," I say, trying to sound unconcerned. I turn back to my reflection and move a stray hair back into place. It's in a large bun atop my head, leaving more of my tanned skin bare for the Capitol to see. My dress is a long sea-green one with some frills that remind me of the ocean's waves. It makes me oddly homesick.

"Hey, Nikki." The door closes behind him with a soft click. "You look beautiful."

Something tightens in my chest. "Thank you. So do you."

"My stylist wanted to use eyeliner on me but I put my foot down. I had to use my Peacekeeper voice."

I chuckle a little, rummaging through the makeup bag that my stylist left with me. I haven't done my makeup in a long time, and the painted face I'm wearing now seems foreign to me. I don't look like myself. I take some of the magical Capitol wipes and erase some of the darker lines.

"You said that necklace was your brother's."

My eyes fixate on the gold chain that dangles from my neck in the mirror. Luckily the gold matches my dress well, but my stylist thought I would look better with a large green jewel instead.

"It was," I say, redoing some of my contouring. I'm already starting to look softer. My angle for the interview is to be an absolute beauty with a deadly side, but that doesn't mean I can't look like myself at least a little.

"What happened to him?" Jason asks.

I sigh. He must know I don't want to talk about this, but his curiosity gets the better of him. I've discovered that very quickly. "He placed second in the Seventy-Third Hunger Games."

"He did?"

I can hear the gears turning in his head as he tries to remember the runner-up from four years ago. He probably won't be able to. Most people from non-Career districts don't keep track of the placements; they only remember the winners.

"I'm very sorry," he says finally. "That must have been horrible."

"It was," I say with a sigh. I've told Jason all about my parents; how they forced me to train and volunteer, how I would give anything to be away from here just like him, but I couldn't bare to tell him why. Marcus is just too difficult to talk about.

"My parents want me to make up for Marcus' failure," I explain, finishing my touch-ups. Now I look like I came straight from the beach, with my tan skin and nude makeup. "They even made me volunteer a year earlier than most Careers do so that I could be even more impressive."

"Marcus wasn't a failure, he was your brother."

I turn around to look at him. His eyes are so much softer than anyone I've ever met. The world can't lose his kindness. If I lose, Jason has to win. With my ten and his nine, one of us _will_ win.

 _Eryn Winters (15)- D12F_

My stylist is an angel, and I can't help but thank him for everything that he's done for me. In the Parade, Rooker and I stood out in our flowy charcoal dresses, and today he's done it again. My sweater dress is comfortable and reminds me of home, like something that Jylly would make for herself, then pass down to me when she grew out of it. The color reminds of of the sky just after dawn, a pretty light blue color that is echoed in my makeup.

"I love it," I tell my stylist softly. I was worried he was going to put me in an over-the-top ball gown that so many of the other girls, or a skimpy one if the Capitol finds me attractive. I shouldn't have worried.

The stylist leads me out to where the rest of the tributes are waiting. I avoid their eyes, keeping mine on the ground and my pretty brown boots. Rooker and I are at the end of the line since we will be going last. I don't know if that's better or worse for us; the idea of waiting sounds terrible and I almost wish I could get it over with as soon as possible.

My nerves are starting to set in, but I soothe myself with the knowledge that I can't be any worse than Rooker. The show's closer is shaking from head to toe like a leaf, his eyes wide and unfocused. His tall, lanky posture makes him stand out even more, his long limbs trembling.

"It will be alright," I tell him, brushing a hand down his arm. Though he's taller than me, I am two years older and feel a strange responsibility to comfort him. He only nods curtly, maybe not even processing my words.

"Eryn!" I turn to see Triple A grinning from ear to ear at me. I can't help but laugh a little at his outfit. He looks like a little boy in some kind of uniform, the green and brown suit complete with a little hat. He's walking towards me with a smile, seemingly not offended by my laughter.

"What did they do to you?" I ask, trying to suppress my glee.

"The stylist said it draws inspiration from a nature group for children here in the Capitol," he says with a grin, adjusting his brown sash. "When we get to the arena, nature is going to be our main help." His smile is brighter than the sun. "What do you think?"

"It fits you," I say. "I think you could pull anything off if you wanted."

I pretend I can't see the light blush on his cheeks. "Thanks," he says softly, returning back to his usual shy self. "You look very pretty."

I wonder what he's going to show the Capitol. Will he tell them about the Voice of the Woods? Will he try to be clever and funny, or stay sullen and shy?

"You have to talk about you training score," I tell him. "A seven is impressive for a thirteen-year old. Everyone will want to know how you did it."

"I know. But we're not allowed to reveal anything, which is probably for the best," he says. "No one will know our strengths."

"They watched us in training, Triple A," I say with a laugh. "Do you have a secret talent you haven't told me about?"

"It's called being fast and smart."

I snort. "Well, you have way better odds than me. A four isn't going to win me sponsors."

"You never know," he says, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "Tonight is the night to change that. Charm them all, okay?"

I smile and lower my head. "Okay."

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

Our interviews outfits aren't as shockingly terrible as our Parade ones, for which I'm grateful. Our stylists seem to have ditched the itchy wool theme for a sparkly material that is just as uncomfortable but in a different way. The plastic-like material sticks to my skin even if it isn't sweaty, making horrible squeaking sounds and pinching every part of my body. But at least it looks somewhat good.

My suit coat is a deep purple, along with my shoes. My pants and tie are a silver that shine in the florescent lights above us. The entire outfit shimmers like a jewel, making me look like a pop star that is about to take the stage. Sock is in a similar state, but her dress glows a cyan blue that hurts my eyes. The sparking gown doesn't match her angle very well, but I have a feeling that it may have been intentional. No one here takes us very seriously, insisting that we play up the age thing and act adorable for the cameras. When Sock's stylist offered her a princess crown to match her dress, Sock almost bit her hand clean off.

Now Sock is getting into her headspace for the interview, leaning against the wall, facing it while murmuring to herself under her breath. Luckily I don't need to give myself a pep talk to be charming. I've spent half my life on the streets selling products to gullible adults. Now I just have to sell myself, the best product of all.

I hear heavy footsteps behind me, footsteps I have gotten accustomed to hearing sneak up on us. I turn before Seb can make himself known, crossing my arms and giving him my best irritated look. He looks like he's ready for a casual Capitol party in a long tan and black tuxedo and brown boots.

"Hey, Tag," Seb says with a sigh. "I just want to talk to you and Sock. Can we go somewhere more private?"

I glance at Sock, who is now giving Seb her practiced warrior face. "Fine, "she declares, stepping into a side-hallway where the lights are darker. "Make this quick."

"I will," Seb says, taking a deep breath. "I know that you think you know what you are up to here, but let me tell you something; you do not. You think you know what killing means. You _do not_. Take the worst thing you ever did, the worst nightmare you ever had, multiply it by a thousand and you're not even close. I don't want this for you. I want to protect you in here, I want to protect your innocence. I want to let it flourish... I am not a fool. I know that you probably will have to kill in the Games, but maybe... just maybe… I can shoulder enough of your guilt and shame that, even if one of you survives and goes home, your good nights' sleep is not ruined forever."

He lets out a long breath, turning away from us. "That's all I have to say. That and congrats on your training scores."

He leaves without another word. I turn to Sock to see her watching him with her mouth agape. "What was that?" she asks.

"A trick," I spit out.

"Not a trick, _Tag_ ," Sock says coldly, and I can taste her disappointment. "It's something that's very rare in the Capitol."

"And what is that?"

"Truth."

 _Denver O'Casey (14)- D10M_

I nervously run my hand over my slicked-back hair. It feels weird, like a hard piece of plastic rather than my hair. It's never been this straight before, always having hung over my face in curls. The stylist let me keep my glasses as well, something I'm grateful for. She said it made me look wise beyond my years, which I hope is true. I have to show the Capitolites something worthwhile. So far the only material I have is about my pets, and I'm not sure how well that will go over. From what I've seen the Capitol loves cute things, but they also love blood and death. I don't know how they will react.

I straighten the black jacket of my suit and nervously glance over at Filly, biting my nails anxiously. It's obvious the stylists had a tough time deciding what to do with Filly; her tomboy style isn't exactly common in the Capitol, especially for tributes. It's practically unheard of for a female tribute not to wear a dress for her interview, but Filly managed to negotiate with the stylists and meet them halfway. Her pants are baggy and flowy enough that they seem like a dress at first glance, but are actually apart of her jumpsuit that covers her body. I can tell the pink and orange color scheme wasn't her decision, but the rest seems Filly enough.

"I like your suit," she says, feeling over the breathable material of her outfit. I take my fingers away from my face long enough to give her a hesitant smile.

"Thank you." The tuxedo is pure black down to my shoes, with the only splashes of color being my baby-blue bowtie and ginger hair. It's not something I would think would work for someone like me, but the stylists assured me I looked very handsome. "I like yours."

"I like it too, for the most part." Her smile seems forced. "I just wish it wasn't necessary."

"We need this to make a good impression!" I say eagerly, falling silent when I realize that _I_ need a chance to impress the crowd, but Filly doesn't. With a score of eight, she's bound to get sponsors no matter how she does in her interview. Every angle will seem worthy of sponsoring.

For me, with the lowest score in the Games, there's no chance. Unless I can really make use of this opportunity.

The rest of the tributes are finally starting to trickle in, everyone being lined up according to district number. I wish I went before Filly instead of after; it will be hard to follow her surely impressive interview. Everyone who speaks to her loves her, and I doubt Caesar Flickerman will be any different.

The reality of my situation is starting to set in. In about an hour, it will be my turn to walk on stage in front of the entire country and a roaring crowd. I'll be sitting next to one of Panem's most famous celebrities. My body starts to shake and my breath comes quickly. I need to get control of myself.

I feel something wet touch my shoulder and I jump, turning to see the guy from Two walk past with a smirk. "Good luck, bloodbath," he taunts, his strong shoulders looking awfully menacing as he saunters past us. His district partner looks troubled, but still shoots me a deadly glare before following him.

Though he's wearing a suit very similar to mine- navy blue and fitted to his muscular body- he looks a lot more imposing than I do. How will I be able to make an impression when someone like this exists in the same Games? The Capitol always goes for the tough, arrogant types.

"Don't worry about him, Denver," Filly says, brushing his spit from my shoulder with her bare hand. "I'll protect you."

I nod, but I can't help but wonder how long she will be able to keep her word.

 _Rufina Fastolf (18)- D2F_

I hike my dress up to my waist in a rather unladylike way, struggling to keep up with Hadrian's wide-stepped gait as we make our way to the front of the line.

"This dress is itchy," I complain. The sequins on my bright red sparkling gown are already rubbing my legs raw, no matter how beautiful it is. As the pair from One comes into view, I relish the fact that I look better than Tiffany. Her silver dress is long and rather conservative, matching her personality perfect and making her look beautiful, but it's not particularly notable. My dress is brighter, sesxier, and I wear it better. The off shoulder left sleeve gives it a nice teasing touch, as well as the length that ends just above the knee. Just enough to be intriguing, and my witty banter with Caesar will seal the deal.

"How's it going?" Hadrian asks them as we approach.

"Excited," Tiffany says, and she looks it. Her long blonde hair has been straightened and then given texture to look like it's constantly being blown back in the wind. Tiger is wearing a suit that is colored with weird shades of brown and tan, making him look like he's made of wood.

"What is that supposed to be?" I ask with an eyebrow raised, nodding toward his outfit.

"It's the color of a tiger gem," he says impatiently. "Emeralds for the Parade and tiger gems for the interview."

"Well, it would be a good idea if tiger gems weren't ugly."

"It's not ugly," Tiger growls, but looks down at his suit regardless. At least the sleeves are short to show his muscles, and the suit is fitted to his body to make him look attractive. Not that I would tell him any of that.

"I'm ready to move on from this," Hadrian says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "It's about time we got to the good stuff."

"Every part of the Hunger Games are worthwhile," Tiffany says with a frown. "Otherwise it wouldn't exist."

"I didn't say it wasn't worthwhile, I'm just ready to be done with it," Hadrian sighs, rolling his eyes. "Not all of us live for pageantry and appearances."

"Tell me about it," Tiger quips, his arms crossed confrontationally.

"Damn, are you still going on about that?" Hadrian asks incredulously. "That's the Games, dude! Why did you volunteer if you don't like how they're played?"

"The Games are about honor!"

"And sacrifice," Hadrian reminds him.

Tiger glares at Hadrian, and for a terrifying moment almost looks like he might punch him, but then stalks away. Tiffany lets out a huge sigh.

"He needs some medication," I say eventually.

"He needs some proper training," Hadrian says darkly. "Cassius won fair and square. If he doesn't like it he shouldn't be here."

"She was his cousin, you guys," I say. I don't really know why I'm defending him. I've spent too long in the Capitol, and Hadrian spitting on that District Ten boy has me feeling rather unstable.

"So you think he's justified?" Hadrian asks me incredulously.

"That's not what I said." I roll my eyes. "I'll go talke to him, okay?"

I pull my dress up again and tiptoe away, hearing Hadrian grumble unhappily behind me. Tiger had disappeared into one a dark hallway, to our left, but I don't know where he went from there. I go as far as I can until I see a dressing room labeled as "District One Male". It's slightly ajar, so I push it open all the way to peer inside.

Tiger is sitting alone at his vanity with his face in his hands, making strange soft noises. It takes me a little while to realize what they are.

"Are you crying?" I ask, shocked.

He spins around in his chair, the tear tracks on his face answering my question. "Go away," he mutters.

"It's okay," I say, stepping in and closing the door behind me. "I understand. It all becomes a little too much at times."

He nods slowly, averting his gaze from mine. "Rufina... " he starts. "I feel like I'm not myself here."

"Me neither," I sigh, taking a seat next to him. "This place takes something from you. It will be better in the arena."

"I hope so." His eyes harden again. "We were trained to kill. I think it's time the Games began."

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I figured out how to put a line in between the story and my notes! I also think this is the longest chapter I've written for this story... I hope the content does the length justice.**

 **We're only two chapters away from the bloodbath! The next chapter will have all of the interviews, so it will be very long and jam-packed full of drama and intrigue and will take a long time to write. I hope to have it up within a week or so, possibly longer. After that there will be only one more chapter before the Games start.**

 **For now, whose score surprised/impressed you? Whose interview are you looking forward to the most?**

 **Thank you to everyone who is sticking with this story. It means a lot!**


	22. Interviews

**Hey everyone! Sorry this chapter took so long to churn out. It's definitely the longest chapter that's going to be in this story. I thought about splitting it into two parts, but I felt like that would ruin the flow.**

 **Since the chapter is so long, I know that you might go over the word limit on your review and have to leave a second one. If you do this, I will count both toward your sponsorship points. I feel like that's only fair since you would get two reviews if I had posted the chapter in two parts.**

 **Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 _Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M_

As I walk back to the front of the line, I fix my suit jacket and tie so that they are tighter on my body. My arms are exposed for the world to see and my blond hair is spiked up in an alluring way. I'm ready to show the Capitol my best my personal life and the third about my plans for the Games. It's a proven formula for success when it comes to the interviews; I've studied previous victors' methods for years and this is the way to get the Capitol on your side.

The tributes are standing around nervously as Caesar introduces the show, the screens on both sides of the hallway showing us the broadcast. This year's color is a bright sunflower yellow that hurts my eyes to look at. His hair, eyebrows, and suit are also the same blinding, disgusting yellow, and I'll have to look at it all night. I try to ignore Hadrian and Rufina's chatting next to me. I don't understand how Hadrian managed to get on her good side. She's the only one that he's managed to capture, it seems.

Tiffany stiffens in front of me when Caesar begins to announce his first guest. Two Avoxes begin helping her up the stairs, her long silver dress constantly tripping her up.

"Our resident beauty, Tiffany Silk from District One!"

Tiffany appears on screen as if she hadn't just been in front of us a second ago. She looks radiant on the screen, the color of her hair, shoes, dress, and jewelry all coming together to make her seem like a huge diamond. She shakes hands amicably with Caesar, a pleasant smile on her face the whole time.

"Welcome to the Capitol, Tiffany!" Caesar says and the crowd cheers again.

Tiffany's grin becomes wider as she crosses her legs in a ladylike way. "Thanks, Caesar. I'm glad to be here."

Caesar really does look like the sun when he smiles, his teeth an unnatural white surrounded by glaring yellow. "Your dress looks lovely!"

"Thank you, it's made of silk, just like my name!"

"Oh, do your parents make silk in District One?"

"No, we make jewelry. My mother made me this necklace." Tiffany shows off her sapphire necklace, the only piece of color in her outfit. The audience _ooh_ s and _aah_ s in delight.

"It's beautiful!"

"I love making jewlery, too. I hope to open up my own clothing line and jewelry line after I win." Tiffany seems genuinely excited at the prospect, giggling.

"Wow! And how exactly do you plan to win?"

"By honoring the rules of the Games," Tiffany says, suddenly serious. "I take the Games very seriously. What they symbolize, what it takes to win, and the responsibilities that come with winning."

"And what kind of responsibilities are those?"

"Carrying the spirit of competition," she says solemnly. "Teaching others that in order to get something you want, you have to work for it."

The crowd loves that, going wild again. But Tiffany's time is almost up, so Caesar quickly thanks her for her time and sends her on her way. The camera follows Tiffany as she takes the first seat below the stage, where it will no doubt show her reaction to various things I say in my interview.

I walk towards the stairs, feeling my eardrums pound in my ears. I can still feel the stickiness of where my tears rolled down my face, but I think it gives me a certain glow. No one will know besides Rufina, anyway.

"Everyone knows him as the Reaped Career, but here we call him Tiger Emerald! Come out, Tiger!"

The audience is already screaming by the time I make it onto the stage. I keep my signature smirk plastered to my face, reaching out to shake Caesar's hand as the audience dies down. I'm glad to have a nickname already. It means I'm making an impact.

"So, Tiger," Caesar begins as a woman from the audience shouts, "I love you, Tiger!" and the crowd erupts into cheers again. My smirk grows wider as I wink at the woman. I then turn to Caesar, who is incredibly difficult to look at up close.

"As you can tell, you've made a good impression with the women in Panem," Caesar says with a light chuckle.

"I hope I did," I say. "I was afraid maybe all this time away from home made me lose my charm."

"No, not at all," Caesar assures me. "Attractive, strong, and _reaped_. Tell me about how that happened."

"Well, Caesar, the odds are unpredictable. At the time I thought it was terrible. The Reaping ball had stolen my moment!" I shake my fists comically and get a laugh from the audience. "But now I see it was a moment to show my strength. Every guy in One knows that I'm going to win, so they didn't dare volunteer for me."

"Well, you certainly convinced some people here as well," Caesar says, bringing more cheers from the audience. "Now, what made you want to volunteer in the first place?"

I keep my expression neutral and confident as I answer, purposely avoiding the topic of Blush. "Well, I was seven when Augustus Braun won his Games." The crowd goes wild at the mention of Panem's Cavalier Career. "He was such an inspiration to me. He's influenced everything that I am and everything that I want to become."

Referencing past, especially beloved victors is a sure-fire way to gain support. I can feel the Capitol's love absorbing into my body now.

"Will you be taking any of Augustus' tactics into the arena with you?"

"Well, I don't want to give away my strategy." I give Caesar a wink. "But let's just say that I've studied the Hunger Games ever since Augustus won, and I know the ins and outs of how they work. I know what the Games are _really_ about. Let's get the blood flowing, already, yeah?!" I shout to the crowd, who erupts into wholehearted agreement. My timer goes off and I am escorted down to the seats, where Tiffany is waiting with a raised eyebrow.

"What the Games are really about?" she asks with a disapproving eye roll.

"What? I'm not wrong."

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

Rufina is going onstage before me, which means I'll have to stand backstage alone for a few minutes. Well, not technically alone, but surrounded by my prey. They all tremble at the sight of me, which is satisfying, but also a little tiring after a while. It will feel good to drive my sword through some of their fragile necks.

Rufina's interview is a fantastic one, as expected. Her banter with Caesar isn't common for Careers from Two, who usually go for a more tough image, so the Capitol will find her interesting.

"I'm so glad to be here, Caesar, but do you think you could have worn something a little less disgusting? You remind me of vomit!" is her opening line, and it's a killer.

"Whoo, and I though yellow was all the rage this season. Am I wrong?" Caesar asks the audience for approval, some of them agreeing and others booing playfully.

Rufina lifts her hands up in a questioning kind of way, her eyes widening. "They know I'm right! I don't care what's in fashion, I know what's ugly when I see it."

"Well, I hope you know beauty too, because you look beautiful!"

Rufina laughs goodnaturedly and stands to show off her dress, lifting up the hem in a barely-suggestive way. There are some whoops from the crowd and she throws her head back again in laughter. "I think red looks good on me."

"It does!" Caesar agrees as she sits down again. "Now, how about we talk about your ambitions. Why did you volunteer for the Hunger Games?"

"Well, Caesar I've always felt like I've needed to prove myself to my family," Rufina says. "I was adopted, and even though my family loves me, I've always felt like I needed to prove my worth."

The information is just enough to evoke sympathy as well as intrigue. Everyone will be dying to know more about her adoption. Hell, even I am a little curious. I know the story of Rufina's birth just like most people in Two, but her volunteering seemed a little rushed and not thought-out.

"Well, I think even if your family doesn't understand you, the Capitol understands your heart." The crowd coos in agreement.

"Oh, Caesar, don't be so sappy," Rufina dismisses him with the wave of her hand, getting another eruption of laughter from the audience. She's certainly got them in the palm of her hand. By the time it's my turn, she's warmed the crowd up nicely for me. They must know their next guest is going to be a real contestant based on the training scores. I have the highest score in the Career pack, and therefore the highest chances of winning. They'll be itching to see how I managed to pull that off.

Rufina descends from the stage to thundering applause as Caesar begins to introduce me. The Avoxes help me up the stairs to the backstage, where I shrug them away and adjust my jacket. The navy blue color goes well with the mature but deadly angle that I've been working on.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, Hadrian Cato!"

I plaster a smirk to my face as I saunter out into the spotlight. I immediately feel the eyes of thousands of bloodthirsty people on my face and suddenly feel more at home than I have since leaving Two. Caesar shakes my hand before we sit in the plush chairs.

"Welcome to the Capitol, Hadrian," Caesar says with a grin.

"It's great to be here." I wave to the crowd, which responds enthusiastically.

"Now, about your name. Cato! The very same as the Cato we all know and love, and also the last name of another victor we've gotten to know in the past few years. What's with that?."

I sigh in a long-suffering sort of way. "What can I say, it's a common name in District

After my moment with Rufina, I have compose myself in my dressing room before returning to the line. I'll be the second guest, right after Tiffany. I'll have the entire Capitol's attention for three whole minutes. I need to make sure I look my best.

My interview is fully planned out. One minute making jokes with Caesar, the second Two."

"You must be tired of hearing about it. Your brother, especially." The implication is not only that the Capitol has made this connection and is very fascinated by it, but that I would have access to the Capitolite gossip, which I don't. But I just chuckle softly and nod my head.

"I am. Cassius have a bet about who can make more kills in the Games. He had five, but I know I can kill more."

"How many are you planning to kill?"

"Twenty-three."

The crowd erupts into laughter at my ridiculousness, and I throw my head back and chuckle as well. A mention of Cassius, a joke that shows I have a sense of humor as well as high goals… the Capitolites will be all over me.

I continue once the audience dies down. "I thought for a while my name was the only reason anyone was interested by me, but I know that's not true anymore." I wink at Caesar, hoping he understands what I'm talking about.

"Of course not, of course not! Not after that announcement last night!" The crowd roars in agreement. "How does it feel to be one of only three tens in the Games?"

"Quite frankly, Caesar I was a little disappointed. I was hoping for a twelve."

Even more laughter this time. Caesar doubles over, holding his stomach.

"Shooting for the stars is always admirable, even if you fall short." he says eventually, wiping his eyes. "Still very impressive. I take it you are very determined to win."

"Yes, winning the Hunger Games is all I've ever wanted. The glory, the fame, the way my name will live on forever… it's truly the best goal anyone could work towards. What's a better way to spend your life than gaining glory?"

My timer goes off then, and I'm led off the stage to glorious applause. I have them in the palm of my hand, I just know it.

 _Pixel Mackaby (15)- D3M_

I can feel my whole body shaking, like something is trying to jump out of it. After Tesla is finished with her interview, I'll be next in line.

Tesla's yellow dress fits perfectly with this year's color, but her attitude is anything but sunny. She doesn't smile once as Caesar shakes her hand and motions for her to sit. The audience claps for her as they do for each tribute, but I can sense their intrigue through the screen.

"So, Tesla, how have you been holding up in the Capitol?"

"Fine." Tesla looks him straight in the eye as she says it, showing no emotion or providing any more information.

"Do you miss your family?"

"Kind of."

Caesar seems to catch on to her game, leaning back in his chair and matching her expression. The audience laughs faintly.

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Yes."

"Brothers?"

"No."

"Sisters?"

"One."

"Younger or older?"

"Neither."

Caesar's eyes light up. "A twin! Ladies and gentlemen, we have determined that Tesla Sherman has a twin sister. How about that? What an accomplishment!"

The crowd finds Tesla's game hilarious, and Caesar attempts to extract information from her for the rest of the interview. Unfortunately there doesn't seem to be much to extract. Tesla is silent on any subject about her plans for the Games, and according to the interrogation she doesn't have many friends or reasons to return home. The one thing she does say is that she loves her father.

Tesla's three minutes are up far quicker than I imagined. After her mysterious interrogation, the Captiol will be expecting someone equally intriguing. I posture up as the Avoxes lead me backstage, straightening me dark mustard suit. Apparently the stylists wanted Tesla and I to match.

"From District Three, Pixel Mackaby!"

My feet don't move until the Avox behind me gives me a little push, at which point my legs take over. I'm moving without thinking about it, my attention fixed on the roaring crowd that is applauding for me. The lights are blinding and I can't even tell where they're coming from. I'm by Caesar before I know it, shaking his hand and sitting down.

"Welcome, Pixel," Caesar says with a garish smile. "How have you been liking the Capitol so far?"

"I-I like it." Is the only thing I think to say.

"Well, that's good," Caesar says, nodding his head seriously. "What do you think your favorite part is?"

I wrack my brain for something intelligent to say. The only thing I can think of is, "Um, the fashion."

"Oh, really?" Caesar and the other Capitolites seem intrigued. I try not to focus on how I had just said the first thing that came to my mind, and that I don't care about fashion at all, and instead relish the fact that I have their attention.

"Tell us a little bit about yourself, Pixel," Caesar says after a moment, when it's clear I'm not going to elaborate.

"I l-love my family. And I work on machines at the factories in my spare time." Really, it's my job, but my mentor said that younger kids talking about their jobs doesn't go over well in the Capitol. Apparently they think children shouldn't work until they're of age, and even have laws against it in their city.

"Oh, what kinds of machines?"

"Any kind," I say, surprised at how quickly the words are coming to me. I feel thousands of ears listening closely to my words. "I've always done well in science at school, so the factory supervisors wanted me to help them with the broken machines. I can fix almost any problem."

"Well, that's very impressive," Caesar says, possibly exaggerating his facial expression to get the point across to the cameras, and it reminds me that fixing machines isn't going to help me win in the Games. What if the audience is just pretending to be interested? What if they hate me?

"I know all about electronics," I continue desperately. "I'm the top of my class and I love anything to do with engineering."

"A true District Three boy, I see!" Caesar says with a chuckle. "I'm sure your talents are much appreciated there."

My timer goes off and the crowd cheers for me, actually cheers, like they enjoyed the interview. Maybe they did. Maybe I'm just getting into my head again… I should be proud.

Tesla is expressionless as usual when I sit down next to her, not looking at anything and spacing out. She seems completely in control of her body as well, and I look down and see I'm still shaking with a fury. I hope it wasn't obvious when I was onstage, but it probably was.

 _Andrew "Drew" de Luce (18)- D4M_

I still can't believe that my Flickerman interview, one of the moments I've most looked forward to in my life, where I'll get to tell the entire nation about myself, is ruined by my blindness. Tomas was trying to comfort me before the interviews started, but then he was forced back to his place at the end of the line. But what he doesn't understand is that I'm not sad or upset, I'm angry. I'm angry that my sight is gone after nearly five years of my operation, right before the biggest weeks of my life. I'm angry that the Capitol won't help me. I'm angry that my stylist gave me a stupid pair of dark glasses to wear with my black suit. I'm literally a gimmick, the blind kid that everyone expects to die in the bloodbath. I'm so angry I could scream.

Nikki has been holding onto my arm to keep me in line for the past fifteen minutes, but she hasn't spoken except to tell me where to walk. Once she goes into her interview, I'll be alone.

I wish I could see the interviews on the big screen, but instead I can only listen to them. The remaining Careers all did very well, which is clear without even seeing their outfits. The Threes are miserable as usual, apparently going for strange and told me Caesar is wearing a horrid yellow suit and hair today, as if I don't remember it from the Head Gamemaker's interview the night before the Reaping.

"I'm a Career, I actually pay attention to these things!" I had snapped at him, only realizing afterward that we weren't alone and everyone was probably staring at us. I had hoped to apologize to him, but it was too late. The Avoxes had taken him away and I talked to air for a few seconds before Nikki grabbed onto me.

Tomas is a lot to handle at times but I hope he knows I couldn't function without him. Everyone has been avoiding me, it seems, or stuck between wanting to help or ignoring me. Tomas is the only one whose treated me normally while still helping me things I can no longer do.

Suddenly, Nikki's arms leave me and I can only assume she's going up the stairs that are ahead of us. I don't know all of what she's wearing, but it's long and feels scratchy when it touches me.

"Our next guest, is from the fishing district, is the lovely Nicolette Anderson!"

The Hunger Games music plays as the interview begins. The crowd's screams are both playing over the TV and deafening loud just a wall away, so the sound is overwhelming.

"Nicolette, you look absolutely gorgeous, my dear."

"Thank you, Caesar! And call me Nikki."

The audience cheers loudly, either at her words or possibly a wink to Caesar.

"Now… let's get right into it shall we? Your parents…"

"Yes, my parents are Joseph and Josephine Anderson," Nikki says, managing to sound both annoyed and proud.

The audience fawns over her again, and I can't blame them. Nikki's parents are icons in the history of District Four. Her father won the 46th Games with nothing but pure strength, no matter what weapon was in his hand. Her mother won the 53rd Games by seducing the boy from One before killing him mercilessly with a throwing knife in his heart. After her Games, she and Joseph, who was one of her mentors, fell in love and got married. It wasn't the first marriage between victors, but their similar names and the fact that he had mentored her made it a particularly beloved story.

"How are they doing? Everything okay in paradise?"

"Well, I imagine they're eager to see how I'll do!" Nikki says, sounding chipper. "They've been looking forward to this for a long time."

"What about your brother Marcus?."

The crowd hushes down immediately, and I think I can hear Nikki sighing into her mic.

"Marcus did well in his Games, but I'm going to do even better. I've learned from his mistakes, and our family has recovered from his death stronger than ever."

"Well, I certainly hope so! If you win, you'll be the first victor who is the child of two other victors!"

The crowd goes wild, but I huff in amusement. I remember Caesar saying the same thing about Marcus four years ago. Sure, he did well, but Four hasn't had a victor in a long time and he was the best shot we've had in the last decade. A runner-up doesn't give the district any glory or riches.

"I hope so. I grew up in Victor's Village, but I'm ready to get my own house and move out!"

The audience laughs, making me roll my eyes.

"That's right, you're only seventeen!" Caesar says, sounding shocked. "Do you think your age will set you back?"

"Not at all," Nikki says confidently. "I have the highest score in the Games, tied with only two others, and I've been training for this all my life by two victors. I'm ready!"

The crowd gives an uproarious applause, and I can imagine them getting to their feet. The timer goes off and my heart rate spikes. It's my turn to show the Capitol that I'm not a weakling.

I feel a hand on each of my arms and I jerk away instinctively, but they hold on tight and bring me up a flight of stairs. I must trip twenty times, but I eventually make it to the top. The hands leave me and suddenly my heart rate spikes again. What am I supposed to do? Just walk forward?

"Our next guest has had a lot of mystery and speculation surrounding him since his arrival here in the Capitol. Hopefully all theories will be put to rest as we welcome Andrew de Luce!"

The audience starts cheering, and suddenly I hear something moving around in front of me and feel the heat of a bright light on my face. I still have some light and dark perception, so I can tell I should be moving forward. I keep my hand firmly at my sides as I try to navigate my way around the stage, which I can only assume I'm not on. The cheering continues, but lowers in volume after a while, and I'm still slowly walking forward. I should be moving to the right at some point, shouldn't I?

Suddenly another pair of hands are on my shoulders and I freeze, only to hear Caesar's familiar voice in my ear. "Don't worry, we can find your seat together!"

He leads me to the chairs, where I hesitantly sit down and feel the plush material. It's bigger than it looked TV, when I sat at home with my family and watched the show.

"Welcome to the Capitol, Andrew!"

"It's Drew," I say without thinking, forgetting to sound charming.

"Sorry about that. Now, it looks like the rumors are true. Are you having sight problems?'

"Well, I've had sight problems for many years," I say truthfully. "It started when I was around twelve. My left eye had cataracts and the surgeons had to operate on it to save my other eye. I lost sight completely in my left eye then, but now…" I trail off, unsure of how to breach the topic. Will The Capitol think I'm lying? "The day after the reaping I woke up with no sight."

The crowd gasps dramatically, and I can hear them whispering amongst themselves.

Once they quiet down, Caesar asks, "But you haven't give up, have you? What's your plan?"

"My plan was to fight alongside the Careers, but they rejected me." I feel my face turning red from anger again. "But I will still win. I know how to fight, and I've trained for this my whole life."

"A four _is_ an impressive score for... someone with your condition. The Gamemakers must have _saw_ something in you."

The crowd snickers and I feel my body temperature shoot way up. I feel my breath coming quickly, not from nerves but from rage.

"You should know that the Gamemakers rejected my request to have my eyesight restored," I say quietly, making the audience listen closely to hear me. "If they did, this wouldn't be a problem."

"Well, that's…" Caesar sounds like he doesn't know how to respond. "Prior medical conditions a tricky subject, but the precedent has been set that they shouldn't be messed with. Capitol work gives tributes an unfair advantage."

"They want ratings!" I say loudly, suddenly standing up. I know I shouldn't yell at Caesar, but my rage is clouding my judgement. "They don't care about odds! They want a show! I hope all of you have a great time watching me stumble around in the arena!" I shout at the audience. I storm off in the opposite direction from which I came, almost falling down the stairs but managing to walk down them and over to my seat, miraculously remembering where they are from my time watching the show.

The audience is whispering softly, and a scandal is surely brewing. I feel my anger slowly dissipate as I realize what I've done. I may have just sealed my fate in the arena. Surely the Capitol won't let this slide.

"Way to go," Nikki whispers in my ear, making me jump.

"Leave me alone," I hiss back as my timer goes off.

 _Amelia Waltraud (16)- D5F_

If one thing is good about today, it's my outfit. My pale purple dress isn't something I would be able to afford in Five, but it's the kind of thing that I would wear if I could. My hair hasn't been messed with much, either, which I'm grateful for. My styling team said it was so long and pretty it would be a shame to do anything drastic with it. Instead, I have simple beach waves that cascade down my back to my waist, with minimal makeup to make me recognizable, and my half-heart necklace. I grab it for support as Caesar announces my name. I wonder if Elanor is doing the same thing back home.

I know what I have to do today, and it won't be easy. I've been living with secrets for far too long.

"Everyone, please welcome Amelia Waltraud from District Five!"

The crowd clamors for me more than I expected. Maybe they're relieved that the awkward encounter with Drew is finished. Or maybe they are just excited to see me die.

The lights and noise are overwhelming as I walk to my chair and I suddenly get the urge to curl into myself and disappear, but I push through it. I need to do this.

"Welcome, Amelia," Caesar says with a warm smile. "You look very pretty tonight."

"Thank you," I say, my voice coming out oddly croaky. "I think so too."

The crowd laughs a little at that and I realize that might have come off as conceited. Or maybe just confident… who knows.

"Are you enjoying the Capitol?"

"I.. yes." I settle on, wincing at my own hesitation. If I came across as confident before, then certainly that will change by the time the interview's over.

"What do you think is your favorite part?"

"Outfits like these," I say, looking down at my dress. "It's beautiful."

"Indeed. What kind of necklace is that? Is that your token for the arena?"

"Yes, it is." I reach up to touch it, breath coming in quicker as I find my words. It's difficult to gather any thoughts when there are ten cameras pointed at me and thousands of eyes.

"Does someone else have the other half?" Caesar helps me along, nudging the truth out of me.

"There is. Her name is Elanor," I say, deciding to look straight at the camera for what I'm about to say. "And I love her."

The crowd croons and _aww_ s and drinks in every second of it. I feel heat rise to my cheeks, but I try not to look down in fear.

"I never got the chance to say it before I left District Five," I say, still staring at a camera. "But I do love Elanor, and I hope we can have a life together after the Games are over."

"That's so beautiful," Caesar says, sounding choked up. I imagine it's fake, all for the show, but I can feel the audience's sympathy towards me, and it's real. I didn't expect that. I know the Capitol loves romance, but they also love heartbreak.

"There's something else I have to say," I say suddenly, feeling braver than I've ever felt. I'm tired of living under my father's thumb and hiding my identity. He might take his anger out on my mother, but I don't care anymore. If I don't survive, then he won't have a reason to visit her. And if I do… then she'll never need another penny from him again.

"Caleb Odalric, the boy from my district, is my half-brother."

The crowd turns to confused muttering this time. Clearly they were expecting something more about Elanor, or something entirely different.

"What do you mean, Amelia?" Caesar asks, leaning in closer to me. I wish he wouldn't, the powder on his skin more apparent up close.

"Our father had an affair with my mother while he was married," I say, suddenly feeling like I might cry. "And she gave birth to me. He wants to keep my existence a secret, but now everyone knows. I just wanted to let it out before the Games started."

"If you were a secret, then does Caleb not know about this?"

I shake my head. "No, he doesn't."  
My timer goes off then, signaling uproarious applause from the audience. As I walk to my seat, I can feel my body shaking slightly from the adrenaline. I can't believe I've done it. I've told the world about my parentage and about my love for Elanor. If I return to Five as a victor, then I will have no secrets to bring with me. And if I die, I won't take any of them to the grave.

"Ladies and gentlemen, from District Five, Caleb Odalric!"

Caleb meanders onto the stage, looking shellshocked. Caesar shakes his hand and helps him sit as the crowd dies down, obviously eager to see my response. I keep my face neutral but hopeful since I know a few cameras are likely pointed at my face, looking for any reaction.

"Well, Caleb, how has your day been so far?" Caesar asks, teasing a laugh out of the crowd.

"It was okay until a few minutes ago," Caleb says, his face still completely blank and shocked.

"I take it you had no idea about Amelia."

I purposely don't react, staring at Caleb on the stage.

"I didn't. I… don't think it's real."

The crowd starts to murmur amongst themselves.

"Do you think Amelia is _lying_ about being your half-sister?" Caesar suggests. I can feel the audience lean forward, hoping for a good taste of drama.

"She might be," Caleb says timidly.

The crowd's murmurs start getting louder.

"She isn't the kind of person to lie, though," Caleb says thoughtfully. "I've had a lot sprung on me at once."

"Well, let's talk about something else," Caesar sasy, waving away the issue with his hand. "I see you're wearing your token as well. Don't tell me you have a confession planned."

Caleb glances at his friendship bracelet and takes some time to compose himself. "No. My sister gave it to me."

"Amelia?"

"No," Caleb says firmly. "My sister Nina. She was killed in the 73rd Hunger Games."

The audience either hates or loves that. It's hard to tell with these people, but I think it's probably a mixture of both. Caesar leans back in his chair and lets out a deep breath, nodding.

"That's tough. How would you feel if you lost another sister?"

Caleb glances over to me in the seating area, and my breath catches when our eyes meet. "I think… it would be awful, but I don't quite understand yet. My father wouldn't lie about fathering another child."

I can feel the air in the room tighten up and it feels like I can't breathe. What have I done? Have a ruined any chance of survival that I previously had?

"I will need to talk to Amelia," Caleb explains. I hope his denial is brief and he will see the truth soon. I can't have the Capitol thinking I'm a liar.

Caleb's timer goes off and he walks down to the seats where the rest of us are waiting. I know the cameras will be dying to get our first interaction, so I don't look at him at all, hoping he won't try anything. Luckily, he simply sits down next to me, unnaturally still, and doesn't try to get my attention. I wonder if I will be on my own in the arena after all.

 _Jason Sparks (18)- D6M_

Amelia's confession about Caleb is shocking, to say the least, but I can't get hung up on it right now. I have bigger fish to fry.

Nikki played the part of eager, drop dead gorgeous Career very well. Now it's time for me to bring in the sponsors who like the other kinds of tributes; the charming, likable kind with a compassionate side. Combined, we'll be unstoppable.

Attie is going before me, dressed in her classic baby blue dress that will certainly enchant the Capitol. However, I'm sure her personality will not. Attie has been nothing but rude to me since our Reaping, and any conversation about her family or life in Six will ultimately revolve around drugs. It will be a classic disaster, unless she manages to go in Tesla's direction of uninterested secrecy.

"From District Six, Antonia Montgomery!"

Attie struts to her chair in a way I've never seen her walk before. Her strides are calculated and her posture perfect, but a warm smile is fixed on her face. Caesar helps her sit down and Attie's grin grows.

"Welcome, Attie!"

"Thank you, Caesar." Her voice is soft but strong.

"Are you enjoying the Capitol so far?"

"I'm liking it fine," Attie tilts to her head to the side slightly. She seems self-assured and aloof through her voice alone.

"That's good to hear! What do you think your favorite part is?"

"I liked seeing all the historical place I thought I would never get to see," Attie says sweetly. "The President's mansion is so much bigger than I thought it would be. And I've seen this stage so often on television, it's strange to be here!"

I'm shocked at the sudden change in her demeanor. Just five minutes before going onstage, she had been brooding with her fists clenched, looking rather angry at the thought of having to do this. She always spoke sweetly with our escort, though. And the mentors love her since she used to sell them drugs, and hardly pay any attention to me. For a moment I realize how dangerous Attie will be if this interview goes well.

Caesar and the audience gobbles up her answer. "I never thought about that before! I guess we're spoiled in the Capitol, getting to see our beautiful city everyday."

"I have to be honest, I wouldn't mind visiting every year, if you know what I mean," Attie says with a wink, provoking a laugh.

The rest of the interview goes much smoother than I had imagined, brushing on her family without giving too much away, and carefully evading any questions about her homelife. They mostly talk about her relationship with her little brother, and she even gets choked up talking about him. I wonder if she's lying about wanting him to have a better life.

By the time the interview is over, I'm bouncing on the balls of my feet in anticipation. I just want to have this over with so that I can get a good night's sleep in preparation for tomorrow.

"From District Six, Jason Sparks!"

The crowd goes wild as I step out into the spotlight. I try to stay focused on where I'm walking and not on the thousands of people screaming my name. I keep my gait quick but unhurried, like I was taught in the Peacekeeper Academy. My mentors don't have much to do with me, but I thought on my own that associating myself subconsciously with Peacekeepers will cause the Capitol to root for me.

"Welcome, Jason!" Caesar says with a blinding yellow and white grin, motioning for me to sit. I do slowly, adjusting my simple black suit jacket so that the watch my father gave me before I left is visible. The picture inside of me and my parents likely is too far away for the audience to see, but the cameras must be picking it up right now.

"Thank you, Caesar," I say confidently.

"Now, there have been some rumors flying around about you as well. Is it true you were training to be a Peacekeeper?"

"It is true," I say, looking to the audience. "My father is a Peacekeeper, and I trained for three years to be one as well. And as you can tell from my training score, it paid off tremendously."

"Yes, that's right!" Caesar says with excitement. "A score of a nine is very impressive! You should be proud."

"I am proud," I say with a nod, folding my hands in my lap. "I'm just a little disappointed that I won't be able to use those skills in the actual line of duty."

Another good thing that comes out of my Peacekeeper training is showing the Capitol that I'm patriotic and loyal to the state. I'm a safe choice for a victor.

"Yes, that is a shame," Caesar says gravely. "But we thank you for your service nonetheless."

"Thank you. It feels good to hear that."

"Well, Jason, what do you do back home other than Peacekeeping training?"

"Not much in the past few years," I admit. "I finished school early to focus on my training."

"Not even so much as a girlfriend?"

I swallow as my eyes flicker down to where the other tributes are sitting. "Nope. I have a good friend named Olivia, but she is just a friend."

"Well, I'm sure she would kill to be your girlfriend. And if you win, you'll have the choice of any girl in Panem!"

Several female voices shout out to me, as if already willing. I smile at the crowd in what I hope is a charismatic way. The question about girls caught me off guard.

"You said your father was a Peacekeeper," Caesar continues. "Do you miss your family?"

"My father is the only family I have left," I say sadly. "And I do miss him." I look at the camera, hoping he's watching. He must know that I don't really blame him for my mother's death. I try to convey it in a look, but I know it's not enough. I will have to go back to Six to tell him.

"My mom always said," I say slowly, "be kind to everyone no matter what, and always be thankful for what you have. Because no matter how bad you have it, someone out there has it worse. I've been thinking a lot about that lately."

"That's a beautiful saying," Caesar says, just as my timer goes off. I stand and make my way down to the seating area, replaying the interview over in my head. I can only hope it's enough.

 _Willow Whitebeam (17)- D7F_

I hate that the stylists are still making me associate with Seb. He's fun to joke around with, sure, but lately all he wants to talk about is alliances. It's like he's simultaneously disgusted with me and afraid for me.

Even though we aren't any longer, we look like a team in our matching green outfits. My green dress is brighter and more noticeable, while Seb's suit is a darker shade, but they're still obviously a set. The dress is pretty otherwise, long and flowy like wind blowing through the leave of a tree. I could do without the bulky jewelry, but that's just my taste. As for Seb, the cufflinks and tie match my necklace, making us clearly a matching couple. It's gross.

I try not to focus on him and instead practice my lines for the interview in my head. I'm not usually a planner, but I know I need to hit specific points to get sponsors. I need to be myself, but also mention my life in the Care Home to evoke sympathy, the fact that I built myself up from having nothing (though excluding how), and that I've been accepted into the Careers.

As Jason's interview wraps up, the Avoxes take me up the stairs to where I'm supposed to wait. I reach up to touch my hair, making sure the braids around my head are still tightly in place.

"Our next guest from the lumber district, Willow Whitebeam!"

The doors open and light immediately is shined onto my face. I walk forward with confidence, smiling as I take Caesar's hand and sit on my chair. I notice the crowd is definitely screaming for me specifically, not just clapping politely. It's good to see I've made my mark already.

"Welcome to the Capitol, Willow! How are you liking it so far?"

"I'm loving it, Caesar! It's so exciting. I never thought I would be able to do all these things and wear such pretty clothes."

"You do look beautiful," Caesar says, the crowd agreeing loudly.

"Thank you. I've never had the chance to wear stuff like this."

"Really? Why is that?"

"Well, there's not really a lot going on in District Seven except for cutting down trees," I say jokingly. "But I also grew up very poor in the Care Home."

The audience groans sympathetically.

"That's terrible!" Caesar says, his eyebrows furrowing in what must be fake concern, leaning in slightly. "How did you end up there?"

"I don't know. I lived there all my life. I guess my parents dropped me off there. I've never met them."

The audience seems to hate and love that. I shrug away their crooning moans with, "It doesn't matter to me. I've gotten to choose my own family and work myself up from what I was. Now I live with my best friend Juniper and we are independant and work hard for everything that we have."

Caesar nods encouragingly. "That's right. Working for something is always more rewarding, isn't it?"

"Yep! And now I'm ready to compete for my life! I'm fully ready, Caesar."

"That's wonderful! How do you plan to do it?"

"Well, I am in the Career alliance now," I say, hearing the gasps and whispers from the audience. "And we're going to work together to eliminate all the other competition."

"That's a strong plan," Caesar says seriously, sounding impressed. "An eight is a respectable score, and you have me convinced that you shouldn't be underestimated."

I laugh, hoping I come across as my usual laidback self. "Thank you, Caesar, that means a lot."

My timer goes off and I wave to the audience, even blowing kisses as I walk to my seat. I can hear chants of my name as the cameras pan away from me, like they usually do for the Careers. I try to keep a smirk off my face and seem unaffected so Jason next to me doesn't see.

"And now from District Seven, Sebastian Cassara!"

Seb walks out with his usual careless gait, lightly shaking Caesar's hand and not looking at the crowd once as he takes his seat. His white-blonde hair is pulled into a small ponytail that makes him look like a douche, but maybe the Capitol like that kind of thing. They liked Hadiran, Tiger, and Rufina after all. He crosses his legs as well and leans back, probably making him look confident and laidback to everyone else, but I know it's the opposite. He's trying too hard, which means he's uncomfortable and nervous. The thought makes another smirk appear on my lips.

"Welcome to the Capitol, Sebastian!"

"It's Seb. And thanks." Seb says. Several women in the audience croon, surprising me. They really do go for an arrogant man with silly hair.

"Oh, excuse me. Seb, then, I think we have to talk about your training score first. The only ten outside of the Careers! How did you manage it?"

Seb chuckles. "I thought I was supposed to keep it a secret."

The audience chuckles along with him, and I roll my eyes. How can they be so stupid?

"That's very true," Caesar says with a laugh. "So let's talk about something else. What about your family?"

Seb leans back even farther, almost imperceptibly, but I notice. Caesar must be reaching a sensitive spot. "I miss my girlfriend," he says tersely.

The audience cooes again, ever the sucker for romance. I wonder if they even care that this means they have a less of a chance with him.

"What about the boy you volunteered for? Who was he?"

"Her brother," Seb says, swallowing. "I live with her family."

"Oh, why is that?"

Seb's exhale is audible enough to be picked up by his mic. "Because… my parents are dead."

Noises of sympathy from the audience. Goddamnit! Not having a family was supposed to be my thing!

"That's too bad. When did they die? Did you know them?"

"I did," Seb's eyes flutter closed and he leans forward, finally sitting like a normal human. "They died about a year and a half ago. My father beat my mother to death and then…" he chokes off, and the audience is alive with noise and curiosity.

"And then what, Seb?" Caesar prompts him, keeping up a facade of concern.

"I killed him," Seb says finally, and his timer goes off.

The crowd is still reeling from his confession, though they do eventually applaud him as he sits down next to me.

"Way to go," I say through clenched teeth. "Stealing my thunder."

"What, we can't both have tragic backstories?" Seb snarks back.

I huff and cross my arms, awaiting the next tribute.

 _Sock Northsilk (12)- D8F_

My dress is wildly uncomfortable, sticking to every part of my body and pulling on it, but that's not the worst part. The worst is how I know the stylists are trying to play me up as some kind of cute, helpless little girl. They don't think I have what it takes to gain sponsors on merit alone, but they're wrong. I earned a seven in training, and I deserve to show the Capitol who I really am. Not a princess, but a warrior.

I repeat this mantra to myself as I wait backstage for Caesar to introduce me. The sparkling cyan gown is pretty, but I have to show the Capitol why I'm going to win. I put on my warrior face as I hear Caesar's voice.

"From District Eight, Sock Northsilk!"

The audience applauds me as much as for anyone else, but I wonder if it's because they think I'm cute. I keep my warrior face on as I shake Caesar's hand, trying not to let the noise and attention get to me. I will stay strong. I have to.

"Hello hello, Sock!" Caesar says, smiling gently at me. "How are you today?"

"I'm feeling fine, Caesar," I say, not matching his tone at all.

"You seem a little tense; are you sure?"

"I'm very sure," I growl a little. I hear the audience chuckling a little at me, and I feel myself bristle.

"Well, that's great! Are you enjoying the Capitol?"

"It's okay.I haven't seen much of it."

"That's very true; they work you down to the bone here! That must be why you got a seven in training. It's impressive for a girl your size! How did that happen?"

"I trained hard," I say seriously. "I learned everything I could and didn't waste any time."

"Oh, that's a good strategy."

I can tell he's making fun of me. He thinks I'm cute, a little girl who's here for their entertainment before dying a bloody death at the hands of an older tribute.

"I learned as much as I can about weapons," I continue, my voice deep and angry. "I'm going to kill the Careers and topple the alliance. Then I'll kill everyone else until I'm the vicor."

The audience for once seems to take me seriously, murmuring amongst themselves as my timer goes off. As I walk in my little heels down to my seat, I try to tell myself this wasn't a waste of time. Now they know I'm not to be messed with.

Seb is looking at me fondly when I take my seat, but I ignore him.

"Good job," he whispers.

"Leave me alone!" I hiss. We wait a few moments as Spool is being introduced in his fake name. "You know, Tag and I accept your alliance."

I feel him turn to look at me, but I look straight ahead. "Really?"

"Yes. You are going to get tons of sponsors and you have experience killing. Of course we want you."

"And now our other tribute from the textile district, Tag Nylon!"

Spool appears onstage with his shimmery purple suit, smiling charismatically as he shakes Caesar's hand and waves once to the crowd. He seems much older than he is, despite the dyed fringe that matches his suit and the short height. He lounges comfortably in the chair, his legs crossed.

"Hello, Tag! Welcome to the Capitol," Caesar says, playfully hitting Spool's shoulder. "You're hair is matching your suit! I like it."

"Thanks, Caesar," Spool laughs. "I think the stylists did it on purpose."

"Your hair was like this at the Reaping as well. Do you keep up with Capitol fashion or what?"

"No, I did this just because I think it looks cool." Spool grins. "I do it for all kinds of people in Eight. It's one of business ventures."

Caesar laughs. "Ah, a business! You're a rather young entrepreneur."

"I've always kind of been that way. The Sock Knights have all kinds of businesses, dying hair, selling food and drinks, putting on puppet shows, etcetera."

"And who exactly are the Sock Knights?"

"Me, my brother Spool- who is _awesome_ by the way- and some of our friends. We're named after the Knights of the Round Table. You know, the medieval stories."

The crowd coos at that, but Spool doesn't seem offended. If anything, he looks pleased.

"Maybe that ingenuity is how you managed an eight in your training," Caesar says. "That's quite impressive for a boy your age."

"I've always been rather mature," Spool says, his eyes glinting in a way that signals to me that he's joking, but the audience probably can't catch on. "I can't wait to show everyone what I'm made of in the arena."

"We can't wait either, Tag."

The timer goes off and the audience erupts into applause. It's easy to tell that they love him from the way they scream his name, but I don't understand how he isn't upset that they're not taking him seriously. They only think he's cute and funny, not an actual threat!

"Don't look like that," Spool whispers to me as he sits down. "They love all three of us."

"We're going to need to find a big cave or something to put all our sponsorship gifts in," Seb says quietly.

I sigh in frustration.

 _Grizelda "Zel" Weaver (18)- D9F_

Hopefully, following the two twelve year olds will help gain my more sympathy. Seeing two little children and then a woman who is pregnant with one will surely make my case seem more urgent. They can't send my baby to die, no matter how much they want to see _my_ throat slit.

My dress is probably the most beautiful thing I've ever worn, and I'm a seamstress. It's a light green color and made of a flowy, breathable material that's easy to move around in. It doesn't squeeze my belly tight, either, giving Reina plenty of room. My shoes are green moccasins, comfortable with my swollen feet that I've had since about three months into the pregnancy. My hair hasn't been messed with too much, either, left to hand in natural waves.

I bounce on the heels of my feet as I wait backstage for my name to be announced. I imagine Ezra and my family watching me back home and smile. I hope he thinks I'm beautiful.

"From District Nine, the glowing Grizelda Weaver!"

The doors open and I'm released onto the stage. I walk steadily to where Caesar is waiting, keeping my left hand on my stomach as I shake his with my right. I try not to focus on the screaming crowd. Though they clearly don't have a problem with sending me to my death, I do have my fans.

"Welcome, Grizelda! You're looking lovely."

"Thank you, Caesar," I giggle, taking my seat. "I think so too."

"Now, of course we have to talk about the elephant in the room! Oh, and I don't mean you. Sorry about that!"

The audience erupts into laughter. I try to smile as well, though the conversation is already making me uneasy.

"When is your baby due?"

"In about four months."

"Wow! Well, you look great. It's true what they say about pregnant women being more beautiful than ever."

"Thank you," I grin. I couldn't care less about how the pregnancy makes me look, but I know it's important to these people. "Her name is Reina."

The crowd _aww_ s at that, simply fawning over us. I place both my hands on my belly to accentuate it.

"I assume you and Reina have a special man back home that you can call your own," Caesar says, sounding like a father who is legitimately concerned to his daughter.

"My husband, Ezra. He's everything to me."

That gets more noises of sympathy from the crowd. I think I'm doing well. The thought makes me smile as I smooth a hand over my belly.

"I suppose you miss your husband. Is Weaver the name you took when you married him?"

"It is. My maiden name is Sasha. It's beautiful, but I wanted to become apart of Ezra's family after our marriage."

Caesar nods, his bright yellow eyebrows furrowed. My story isn't a common one for tributes. Very rarely are they married or pregnant, let alone both. I'll touch the hearts of the Capitolites for sure. I have to.

"Now, Grizelda. Reina is going to be an obstacle to victory in the Games, is she not? How do you plan to win?"

I swallow hard, my heart beating fast. "I don't think of her as an obstacle. She's what's pushing me forward. I'll do anything to give her life. _Anything_. I would kill anyone and endure anything to that my husband can hold his daughter in his arms."  
My timer goes off before I can say anything further. I want to stand and scream at the audience to save my baby, but I stay calm and make my way down to my seat beneath the stage. The Eights are purposely avoiding my eyes, and I know why. It's the same reason that the Tens rejected my alliance. Knowing you'll have to kill a pregnant girl is uncomfortable, so they'd rather just ignore me.

Triple A's interview is next. Caesar introduces him with fervor, and the audience immediately gets a kick out of his outfit. I can't blame them, the little trooper outfit is hilarious, but the best part is how Triple A carries himself so seriously, almost like he's enjoying it.

"Welcome, Albert!" Caesar says. "You're looking very proper this evening."

"Thank you, Caesar. I like this, actually." Triple A looks down at his green sash. "I love nature, so I feel complete in this."

"That's good to know,"Caesar says. Triple A smiles softly. His quiet voice and self-assuredness give him a mature but easy-going demeanor.

"Is that how you nabbed a seven in training?" Caesar asks.

"I don't want to reveal anything," Triple A laughs quietly. "But I am very familiar with some of the survival skills that we were taught. I've always loved being in nature, and connecting with it."

"That's a beautiful way of putting it," Caesar says, sounding impressed. "What about people back home? Anyone else who loves nature as much as you do?"

"My sister Ellie too afraid to go with me," he says with a nostalgic smile. "But my friends Minka and Keesher are always up for anything."

"They sound wonderful. What about plans for the arena? Anything special?"

"It would depend on the arena itself," Triple A says expertly."But the best way to survive is avoid everyone else. Stick to myself, live off the land, and stay alive."

"That does sound like a good strategy."

The timer goes off then, and Triple A descends to us while the audience claps for him. They are clearly intrigued by him; his young age and high score are enough to gain him attention even without the mysterious aura around him.

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

I give Denver an encouraging pat on the shoulder as the Avoxes take me backstage. I know he's nervous for his interview, but he'll do fine. I've been trying to tell him not to worry about it, but that doesn't work with most people. I imagine everyone, even the Careers, has been thinking about this moment since the Reaping. Personally, I'd rather just have a good time. If I die tomorrow, I don't want my last day to be full of worry and nerves.

My jumpsuit is a little ridiculous if you ask me, but I try not to think about it too much. It's not really for me anyway, it's for the Capitolites to look at.

"Everyone, please welcome Filly Marcoffe from District Ten!"

I'm pleased to see that the audience loves me, my supporters shouting my name and throwing things to me onstage. I grin and wave at them, cheerfully shaking Caesar's hand.

"Welcome, Filly!"

"It's great to meet you, Caesar!" I say excitedly, taking my seat.

"You look beautiful today!"

"Ah, thank you." I roll my eyes a little. "I'm not used to wearing girly things. This was my compromise."

The audience laughs and I grin at them again. How could anyone not like this? It's fun having so many people hanging on your every word.  
"Why is that? Are there a lot of boys in your family?"

"All boys," I confirm with a nod. "My mother died when I was young, so I live with my father, brother, and Louie."

I don't realize the part about my mother could be sad to some until I hear the sympathetic noises from the audience.

"I don't remember her much, though," I assure them. "But everyday I remind myself to live carefree, because it could be my last."

The Capitolites murmur among themselves like I've just said something wise and unheard of. Maybe they don't think too much about their own deaths.

"I think that philosophy would be great for everyone to try," Caesar says approvingly. "Now, who is Louie? A boyfriend, perhaps?"

"Oh, no, Louie's my grandfather!"

The audience quickly shifts back to laughter. Once it dies down, Caesar wipes his eyes and asks, "So no boyfriend? Not anyone special for you waiting back home?"

"Nope. Except for my family. They are very special to me."

I can tell I'm killing it by the response that elicits.

"Of course," Caesar says with a smile. "Well, you have great odds with an eight as your training score, and a loving fanbase. But do you think that's enough to win?"

"I know I have what it takes," I say confidently. "I've worked with animals and nature my whole life. I know how to use weapons, and I'm strong."

"It certainly seems like it," Caesar says. My timer suddenly goes off, signaling uproarious applause from the crowd. I wave to them as I descend to the seats below the stage, then settle in comfortably. I'm glad this all went well. It seems everything is boding well for me tomorrow.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Denver O'Casey from District Ten!"

Denver is shaking slightly when he appears from backstage, his eyes wide behind his glasses. He extends his hand to Caesar but doesn't shake it, apparently too inside his head to realize what's going on around him. He stares at the audience when he sits down, a few people cheering him on after the applause dies down.

"Welcome, Denver! Have you been enjoying the Capitol so far?" Caesar asks.

Denver turns to look at him, his mouth hanging open a little. He swallows and says, "Yes, I like it."

"Do you miss home though?"

"Yes." Denver swallows hard again. "I miss my family and my pets."

"Your pets? What pets do you have?"

"I have a dog named Buddy and two cats named Alfie and Archie."

The audience coos at him, and I feel myself start to smile. One of the things that Denver and I have in common is a love of animals. Something inside me stirs at the thought of my horses. If I never see them again, they will never know why.

"They sound sweet," Caesar says. He's clearly putting on his little kid voice and mannerisms, smiling gently. "What kind of dog is Buddy?"

"He's a mutt," Denver says. "He's big and brown. Alfie and Archie are Turkish Vans."

I know the Capitol probably won't be impressed by the dog, since they only really care for purebred animals. All people in Ten know that the Capitol loves brand names.

"Oh really?" Caesar says with interest. "What do Turkish Vans look like?"

"Well, they're both white with orange heads and tails. And they're really fluffy and soft."

"They sound lovely. What about your family? Do you miss them?"

"Yes, I miss them a lot. My sister Daelyn especially. She's very funny and she's a great story-teller. We're best friends. This is her necklace." He reveals a necklace that was under his dress shirt. It's a small silver one with a heart charm on the end. The audience croons again, some applause starting again. It's a pretty necklace, but the simplicity of it probably makes it more endearing to the Capitol.

"I also have my brothers Paxton and Tallen and another sister Carissa. And my parents… I miss them all." His body is shaking a little, and his voice is wavering, but he's powering through.

"A large family is a blessing, isn't it?" Caesar says warmly. It almost seems like he actually cares about Denver. "Do you have any hobbies at home? Anything you like to do?"

Denver exhales loudly. "I do pretty good in school. In my family I'm the guy who likes animals. My parents are butchers, so that sets me apart."

There's some huffs of laughter from the audience. Denver smiles nervously. His timer goes off not long after that, and he jerkily stands up and comes down to the seating area. He sits down next to me and I can hear his quick breathing.

"You did a good job," I say with a smile.

 _Marjoram "Jo" Paella (17)- D11F_

I'm grateful for my plain dress. It's a simple white one that ends at my knees, complete with a fluffy shawl around my neck and my hair done up in an elaborate bun. The hair and accessories remind me of Capitol fashion, but the simple dress makes me look like an angel that's accidentally fallen into hell. My makeup is minimal as well, making me more recognizable.

I hold my breath as I wait for Caesar to announce my name. I know what I need to do. Seeder and I have been going over my answers for hours. I just need to get through the next three minutes.

"Please welcome Marjoram Paella of District Eleven!"

The crowd erupts into applause, and I'm pleased to hear that it's slightly louder than some of the other tributes. My name isn't just causing intrigue then, but actual sympathy.

Caesar is waiting for me by the chairs, and I give him a pleasant smile as I shake his hand before sitting down.

"Welcome to the Capitol, Marjoram! Or have you been here before?"

Hunts of laughter course through the audience.

"Actually, this is my first time," I say with a smile. "I was born in District Eleven and I've never left until now."

Now the audience seems even more sympathetic. Caesar nods gravely. I wonder if they realize that other Eleven citizens never get to leave either, or if they only care when it comes to me.

"That sounds rough. Your parents are from the Capitol, though, aren't they?"

"Yes, they moved to eleven to be teachers," I say. "They love it there and so do I. I never really thought about this happening to me before."

"Well, you did volunteer," Caesar says knowingly. "Who did you volunteer for?"

"My friend, Marigold," I say, swallowing hard as I prepare to tell my rehearsed lie. "She's really sweet, but I didn't think she had what it takes to be a tribute, let alone a victor."

"So you tried your own hand at victory," Caesar says, nodding in approval. "Very brave of you. Are you going to show Panem how tough Capitolites can be?"

"I'm representing District Eleven," I say sharply before I can stop myself. "But… the Capitol holds a special place in my heart. I didn't think I'd ever get to see my parent's homeland."

More noises of sympathy. It seems that the Capitolites only care about people that are similar to themselves, even if technically I have nothing in common with them. Maybe they're thinking about their own children, and if they had moved to an outer district before they were born. And despite my disgust, I'm glad my strategy is working.

"Are you liking their homeland? Or do you miss your home?"

"A little bit of both," I say. "I miss my parents, but Eleven is nothing like the Capitol. I don't think I've worn this much fancy clothes in my entire life! And the parties look wonderful!"

"Yes, they are," Caesar says with a small smile. "It's a shame that you can't go to one before the Games begin."

"I know!" I pout a little in the cute way that the Capitolites like. "I guess I'll just have to win so I can experience the Capitol properly."

"That sounds like a good plan."

My timer goes off, the sound deafening, and I stand to blow kisses to my admirers. Several people shout my name as everyone applauds me, and I make sure to wave to them all as I descend to the seating. The other tributes don't look at me as I approach, which I don't know is normal or if they're giving me the cold shoulder. Even if they're angry at my choice of angle, they must know I have no choice. Everyone is doing whatever they can to survive.

"Our next guest is Tomas Fields from District Eleven!"

Tomas looks like a true Capitol man as well, his hair gelled back and glittering with gold, his dark blue tuxedo making him look like a Capitolite movie star. He shakes Caesar's hand without much emotion, apparently too shocked by the audience's screams to put on an act.

"Welcome, Tomas! It's great to have you here."  
"It's great to be here," Tomas says with a forced smile. It isn't very convincing, and I'm wondering what his play is.

"Are you enjoying the Capitol so far?"

"Yes, I am."

"I imagine you miss your home, though."

"I… I do."

Maybe his strategy is to be withholding. Caesar has a small smirk on his lips when he asks, "Any special girls back home? You're a very handsome young man. Both you and Miss Marjoram are attractive for your district, are you not?"

Tomas' brows furrow slightly as he tries to understand what Caesar is saying. I can tell he doesn't quite understand it, my own anger burning deep in my chest, but he still says, "Yeah… but I don't have a girlfriend."

"No? Well, you seemed very upset at having to leave District Eleven. What was going through your head during the Reaping?"

It's clear Tomas catches on immediately this time, and I wish Caesar hadn't asked that question. I had learned very quickly that the Reaping ball incident was a touchy topic for Tomas.

"I was… just upset about leaving my home," he says slowly.

"Some people here think that your show was a display of strength and guts. What do you think about that?"

"I am strong," Tomas says, clearly at a loss of what to say. "I was angry because…" his brows furrowed, he trails off.

"Well, how do you feel now? Are you more confident in yourself?"

Tomas stares at Caesar incredulously. Then he abruptly stands and spits at his feet, storming off stage as quickly as possible. The crowd gasps and immediately starts whispering and rustling around. Caesar laughs nervously and stands as Tomas sits down next to me, his face red from anger.

"A gutsy show from Tomas Fields," Caesar says. "I guess one controversy wasn't enough."

The crowd laughs and Tomas huffs beside me. I wonder if he knows that he's continuously planting a target on his back for the Gamemakers every time he disobeys.

 _Rooker Holm (13)- D12M_

Eryn has left and now I'm all by myself in the hallway. Last place isn't a coveted spot for anyone, but it's worse for me. I've been sweating for so long that now my back dress shirt is drenched, and my once-styled hair is flattened. My stylist will probably be disappointed in me, but I can't think about that right now. I have to make sure that the Capitol loves me, but I don't know how. Haymitch wasn't much help, and Effie only said that we should talk about things that make us happy so that the audience will be happy. I'm not sure what that means, but even if I did, I'm sure whatever makes me happy wouldn't interest the Capitol. They like fashion and blood and food, and I… like food. Maybe that could work.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Eryn Winters from District Twelve!"

Eryn looks mature and beautiful in her sweater dress, her eyes glittering silvery-blue from her makeup. She shakes Caesar's hand, and the contrast between them is shocking. Caesar doesn't even look like a person while he's next to her.

"Welcome, Eryn!" he says as they sit down. Eryn waves shyly to the crowd, causing more people to scream in excitement.

"How have you enjoyed the Capitol so far?"

"I like it a lot," Eryn says softly, clasping her hands in her lap. "My stylists are really nice."

"I suppose we have them to thank for how beautiful you look tonight," Caesar says approvingly, looking to the crowd for their agreement. They clap and whistle again, making Eryn blush.

"I like it too. It reminds me of home."

"Do you miss your home at all, my dear?"

"Yes," Eryn says, her eyes glistening a little as the camera zooms in on her. "I have a large family, with five sisters. One of them is my twin Merylla."  
"Another twin! It's rare to have three twins here in one night. Maybe it means good luck!"

"I hope it brings luck to _me_ ," Eryn says shyly. "Not to them."

The crowd thinks that's hilarious for some reason, and I rub my palms together nervously. What am I going to do to make them laugh?

"You seem like a sweet, charming girl," Caesar says once he's finished chuckling. "What do you do at home?"

"My family makes candy. Maybe that's why you think I"m so sweet."

The audience loves that as well, and Caesar laughs while hitting his knee in an exaggerated way. "You're the quietly funny type, I see," he says with a smile. "And very sweet, of course."

Eryn's timer goes off not long after that and she drifts down to the seating area. I feel my hands start to immediately sweat again, my breaths coming quickly. I try to get ahold of myself, standing up straight as the Avoxes escort me up to the backstage. I decide my strategy is just trying not to throw up.

"Now for our final guest, Rooker Holm of District Twelve!"

The doors open and a cacophony of sound pours over me, almost enough to take my breath away. After a few seconds, I start to walk to where I know Caesar is waiting, watching the crowd cheer for me, unable to believe where I am right now.

"Welcome, Rooker," Caesar says, extending his hand to me. I shake it, and I'm glad he doesn't immediately wipe it off on his bright yellow suit. He sits down and I follow suit, trying to focus on his words.

"Did you get bored waiting for your turn? I always pity the boys from Twelve since they're always my last interviewee!"

I swallow, trying to find my tongue and think of something worthwhile to say. "I-I wasn't b-bored. I was l-listening. Watching."

Caesar nods. "Right. So, you have you liked the Capitol so far?'

"I think i-it's okay."

"Just okay?"

"I-I mean-!" I suddenly realize what I've said. "It's g-great! I-I wish I could l-live here." I can feel my body shaking and hear my voice trembling. I know I'm coming across as a terrible tribute, so I try to get it together, squeezing my hands into tight fists in my lap.

"Well, that is what every victor gets to do during the Hunger Games season," Caesar says, smiling kindly at me. "What will you do to become a victor?"

"I-" My mind goes blank. "I need to survive and- find food and water. And- and stay away from everyone else."

"That is a strategy that's worked for many past victors. Is there anyone waiting for you at home? Mom and Dad perhaps?"

"Yes, my parents," I say quickly, trying to show the audience that I can actually talk. "My dad is a coal miner and my mother is a teacher. I miss them a lot."

"I imagine their very proud of you."

The comment is so strange that I have no idea how to respond. After a moment, I say, "Yes."

"Do you have any friends in Twelve?" Caesar prompts me.

"My best f-friend is Flint. He's nice and smart. And his sister Gaia is- she's pretty and- nice."

Caesar takes the opportunity I've accidentally given him and pounces. "Oh? Is Gaia a lady friend of yours?"

"No-no!" I shake my head violently, sure that I must look crazy. "She's a friend. She's older than me."

My timer goes off and the audience claps politely for me. I know I've lost them as I sadly make my way down to my seat. I'm not smart or cute enough to be a real contender at my age. I guess I'll just have to rely on myself.

* * *

 **Whoo! I'm glad to have this chapter out of the way. Only one more to go before the bloodbath! Whose interview did you enjoy the most? Did anyone surprise you?**

 **Since the Games are creeping up on us, I would check your sponsorship points on my profile to make sure your number is correct. If not, send me a PM and I will check it. I've been keeping up the best I can, but I know I've probably missed a couple reviews. After the bloodbath is posted, my inbox will be open to receive sponsors!**

 **I also am going to start a poll on my profile asking who your favorite tributes are. Vote if you're interested! All readers are welcome to do so. You can choose three tributes who you like the best or who you would like to win. The results of the poll aren't going to change the outcomes of the Games (I already have the bloodbath all planned out), but I'm really curious about who is most popular so far, and I think it will be interesting for other readers as well.**

 **One more thing: I have a Pinterest board for this story! I created it a few weeks ago and I've been posting on it regularly since then. I started the board just for myself, but I thought it would be fun to share it with you. It's just an aesthetic board for these Games, with pictures that I imagine being of the Capitol and various districts. But the best part is: there are also some hints about the arena. They might not be too obvious since there are lots of pictures of the districts as well, but maybe you will identify the hints right away; I'm not sure. If you do think you know something about the arena,** _ **please don't post them in your reviews**_ **as not to spoil it for people who don't want to know yet. I'm going to continue posting on it as the Games continue to give you a better idea of what the arena looks like.**

 **I can't figure out how to post the url (lmao) but if you look up "Pinterest mischief739", you'll find my account. The board is called "Born to die" and it should be one of the first ones to pop up. You don't need a Pinterest account to look at it. If anyone would tell me how to post a url on here I would greatly appreciate it.**

 **Thanks so much for following this story for so long! It means a lot to me. Until next time~**


	23. The Eve of the Games

_Caleb Odalric (18)- D5M_

It's been a long time since the District Five interviews ended, but I still feel shell shocked. I haven't even been paying attention to what the others had to say, mulling over Amelia's bombshell in my mind over and over again.

How is it possible that my father had another child? Let alone keep them a secret? He's always been devoted to my mother, with their only rocky point that I can remember being after Nina's death. And that eventually brought them even closer together.

If Amelia is sixteen, that means she was born two years after me. I don't remember what my parents' relationship was like then, but I _know_ that my father would never cheat on my mother. I know it in my heart that it isn't true.

But then I glance at Amelia and feel my heart sink. Our stylists had guessed it beforehand, telling us we had the same nose and same hair, wondering if we were cousins. If I look really closely at her, I can see my father's eyes as well. I feel my breath start to come quicker as Caesar wraps up the show. I don't remember anything that he's said this whole time, even my own interview a blur of shock and confusion. The lights go bright before dimming considerably, and some Avoxes arrive to escort us backstage.

Everyone is mostly quiet, exhausted from the day's events, walking in a straight line back to our dressing rooms, where our costumes will be removed and we will return to ourselves again. Amelia doesn't meet my eyes when we reach our joint room, only staring at the ground as usual. We're taken into our own rooms and thet process of de-transforming me begins. I sit there in silence, wondering what I should say to Amelia. _If_ I should say anything. Only one of us can survive, after all. There's no use in getting close to each other.

I wonder if she's been planning this since she was Reaped. What if this is all an elaborate plan to throw me off my game. It could be a huge lie. But it would surely come back to bite her if she won… the Capitol doesn't lightly accept tributes manipulating them for support, though that is arguably the entire point of the interviews. If she wasn't really my half-sister and she ended up winning, the Capitol would be very angry with her.

Once I'm changed back into myself, the stylists lead me out into the hallway again, where Amelia is already waiting.

"You two did so great!" the escort chirps, clapping her hands together once. "Family is very important, and now yours has double the chance of winning! How incredible is that?" She skitters away before either of us can react. Amelia's ears are bright red, and she's staring down at the floor. Her dirty blonde hair and freckle-covered face remind me of my own, but also of someone else. Nina.

"You wouldn't lie about something like that, would you?" I ask her.

She glances up at me and quickly looks away, shifting her feet. "I've been lying my whole life. I'm not going to do it anymore." She glances up at me. "Are you mad at me?"

I take a deep breath and shake my head. "No. How could I be mad? You can't choose who your parents are."

The corners of her mouth twitch upward. "So our alliance is still good?"

"Yes. We're still allies," I say, starting to walk with our escort down the hallway. We'll be back in our rooms in a few minutes, unable to sleep as the Games creep closer. "So what about this girl that you were talking about? You said her name was Elanor?"

Amelia giggles and ducks her head to hide her blush. "She's been my best friend for a long time. I never had the chance to tell her how I felt."

"Well, I'll try not to embarrass you on camera," I say, smiling. I try not to think about how the twinkle in her eye looks like Nina's. It's a punch in the stomach that I don't think I can recover from.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

It's a shame that I have to take off my dress, but I suppose when I win that I'll be able to wear all kinds of pretty clothes. Thinking about all the famous Capitolite designers that will climb over each other to dress me makes me feel lightheaded with happiness. Once my silver dress is gone, I only take off some of my makeup, not wanting the other Careers to see what I look like without it just yet. It will be unavoidable in the Games, but I want to hold off as long as I can.

The others are waiting for me in the hallway, merrily chatting together. "What took you so long?" Willow asks with a suggestive smile. "Wanting to make sure you're still all pretty for us?"

"Not for you," I lie easily. "The Avoxes and everyone else. Do you want to be seen with a bare face yet?"

"My bare face is just as pretty as yours with makeup," Willow huffs, turning away.

"She's having a bad day since that Seb guy showed her up in his interview," Rufina informs me, tossing an orange that she got somewhere up in the air and catching it. "But honestly, who cares? So he killed a guy. Doesn't mean he's a great fighter."

"He scored a ten," Hadrian says, sounding frustrated. "Maybe he knows more than he lets on."

"He's probably just crazy," Tiger says. "The crazy ones always score tens. Doesn't mean they'll win."

Hadrian gives him a dirty look and I roll my eyes.

"We can't underestimate him, but don't presume to know anything about him either," I warn. " He and Nikki are our greatest threats as far as we know."

"Nikki is a greater threat," Willow says matter-of-factly. "She's with that Peacekeeper guy, and she has Career training. Seb is a nutjob with two twelve-year olds. We shouldn't worry too much about him."

"We need to talk strategy," I change the subject. "For tomorrow. I think Hadrian, Tiger, and I should take the Cornucopia while Rufina and Willow pick people off the edge."

"Why am I on the edge?" Rufina objects immediately, sounding outraged. "I can fight!"

"You're better with long-ranged weapons," Tiger drawls. "So is Willow. It's a good plan to take out as many people as possible."

Rufina grumbles under her breath. I try not to react. The truth is, I'm not sure if Rufina or Willow would survive in the middle of everything at the Cornucopia. It's usually mayhem, with the strongest tributes vying for supplies. Rufina's spear skills are superb, but she's not good with shorter weapons and she's very small herself. Willow would definitely not stand a chance with her lack of lifelong training, even if she is admirable with knives.

"I'll tell you who I'm going to take out no matter what," Hadrian says suddenly. "That Eight girl. Talking like she can kill all of us… she's starting to piss me off."

"Scared of a little girl?" Tiger asks mockingly.

"I _said_ she pisses me off," Hadrian counters, but thankfully not rising to the bait. "As long as she's alive, people will continue to send her gifts. She could outlive some of us without ever lifting a finger."

"So will that Capitol girl and the pregnant one," Willow says. "We have to get rid of them."

"I call the Capitol girl," I say suddenly, filled with anger as I remembered her interview. Playing up her Capitol connections even though she's never been there, acting like she was some kind of victim, willing to have everything handed to her because of her heritage. It made me sick.

"Ooh, Tiffany is finally showing some malice, huh?" Rufina grins from ear to ear. "We'll let you have her if you can get to her in time."

"As long as I can have Miss Preggers," Tiger jokes, chuckling to himself. "Do you think the baby would try to escape if she's dying?"

"Do you know anything about women?" Rufina asks incredulously, our escorts starting herd us down the hallway.

As the two argue with Hadrian and Willow watching on in amusement, I can't help but feel sick at the thought of that woman's baby dying unjustly. The others probably don't care about a second accidental victim, but I do. I can't let there being a twenty-fourth death in these Games. It's just not right.

 _Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F_

I'm still surprised at how well Attie's interview went, and how she managed to bring out that friendly persona so quickly. I've been thinking about it as my stylists undress me, and I've reached the conclusion that she must be a very good actress. I glance at her as our escorts herd us away to the tribute's tower. She looks like her normal self again, mostly expressionless, but then her escort looks back at her and she smiles pleasantly at her. She's never done anything like that to me.

Pixel is keeping his distance from her, trailing behind us. I know he's afraid of her, and maybe it's for a different reason than I originally thought. I know her own district partner doesn't like her either, ignoring him and his ally from Four, even though that would be a powerful alliance to be apart of. I wonder why she's choosing to ally with me instead.

Jason slos his step so that he's even with Pixel, talking lowly with him. I roll my eyes. Maybe Attie doesn't want to be with Jason because he's kind of an idiot, or too caring, which is going to be a liability. We reach the outside of the broadcasting building, where paparazzi is waiting for us. Luckily, our limousines are too close to the doors for them to trap us. I climb into the one with a Three on the side after Pixel.

"Bye, Tesla."

I look up in surprise to see Attie waving at me just slightly, then turning away. As the limousines speed away to our apartments, I realize I don't like Attie very much. Not at all, in fact. Her act is starting to get on my nerves, and I don't have time for someone who is going to bog us down with different acts for the camera.

"You two did very well," our escort tells us sweetly, like she's trying to comfort two children after their first day at school. "Everyone loved you! I didn't know you had a twin sister, Tesla."

I know she's overreacting; neither of us made any real impression on the crowd, probably. But I don't care, I don't need anyone but myself. I don't answer the escort's questioning look, turning to peer out the window. It's very dark out, the scene lit up with fluorescent lights from the buildings and other cars flying by with their headlights on.

"And Pixel, you were so cute!" the escort continues to gush. "It was smart bringing up your grades. You're a very smart boy, and the Capitol will see that."

I can tell she's preparing for the worst tomorrow. She knows that Pixel doesn't stand a chance, and she thinks that I don't either. I feel myself bristle, all the events from today making me _feel_ … which I really don't like. Attie constantly playing me, the escort lying to us, me having to think about Nora of all people… it's pissing me off. And it's known in my family that good things don't happen when I'm pissed off.

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

The apartment is darker than it's ever been when Willow and I return to it. Whenever we came back from training, it was always lit up with food ready on the table and Avoxes waiting on our every whim. But it's already night time, and the lights of the city are the only thing lighting up the room.

Willow stays behind to talk to the escort and Johanna, but I leave immediately to my chamber. I change into my pajamas and watch the forest scene that is playing on my window. Not for the first time, I wish that the arena will involve a forest or trees in some way. I miss the sounds of birds singing in the early morning as Alexis and I walked with the other lumberjacks into the woods. The work was hard at first, but after a while, you learn to love it. The window's sounds of the wind and insects aren't real enough for me.

After a few minutes, I reckon I've waited long enough before sneaking out of my room, hearing Johanna's laugh echoing down the hallway from the plush living room. She and Willow have been getting along almost too well over the past few days.

I creep towards the end of the hallway, where I found the staircase yesterday. The door is hidden in between two wall panels, but I open it easily enough. I think the Avoxes use it to easily move from one floor to another, but I can't be sure. I slowly walk up the stairs, which spiral around a few times, until I reach another door marked with an Eight. I open it and am pleased to find myself in the Eights' apartment.

Sock and Tag are waiting for me in Tag's bedroom, whispering together on the bed. The room is dark except for the light from the window, which is showing the Capitol in all its murderous glory. I notice Sock is hugging a small plushie of some sort, but she drops it as soon as she sees me.

"Hey," Tag says. We thought you weren't coming."  
"I had to wait. Didn't want to seem suspicious." I sit down on the bed beside them."So, before anyone says anything, let me give you my two cents. We're not going anywhere near that Cornucopia."

Sock gasps dramatically, and I can imagine her face scrunching up angrily. "You two are crazy! How are we going to survive without weapons?"

I glance at Tag. "I'm better empty-handed anyway. And you two are too small to do any real damage. We're good at making traps, so that should be our plan to stay alive."

"No one survives without weapons," Sock hisses, clearly not convinced. "No one."

"The sponsors will give us supplies, Sock," Tag says pleadingly. "Seb scored a ten and we have high scores for our age. Our main objective for the bloodbath is to survive."

"Our main objective should be to kill as many Careers as we can," Sock says stubbornly. "Not hide away. We have to take what we can and destroy everything else. We can set fire to-"

"No fires!" I say incredulously. "Do you hear yourself? I know you want to prove that you're a warrior, but we need to be smart!"

Sock grumbles under her breath, and I know she's not convinced.

"Before the gong goes off, we have to see where everyone is. Sock is a faster runner than you, Tag. I think we should run towards Tag and then away from the Cornucopia. We'll need to get to a water source as fast as possible to stock up, then figure out what to do from there. It's going to depend on the arena. Okay?"

I look pointedly at Sock, who mumbles a quiet, "Okay."

 _Marjoram "Jo" Paella (17)- D11F_

With my hair let down and changed into my plain black pajamas, I feel like myself again. Not like a cheap, knock-off version of a Capitolite. Seeder says that this is the best way to go in terms of sponsors. They will all identify with me and pity me, even though they won't admit it to themselves that it's because they think it's wrong for me to die. It disgusts me how they can send other children to their deaths without so much as a second thought, but not their own children.

Seeder has made some green leaf tea for us, a reminder of home. Vendors at the Market made the most delicious and relaxing tea, but my mother's always sucked, not having grown up with it. That's the way my parents have always been, fascinated with the culture of District Eleven and desperate to fit in, while simultaneously trying to destroy it.

Tomas isn't talking much, staring into his cup of tea with his eyes drooping shut. It's a shame that we met this way. He's a sweet kid, and I know he doesn't deserve what's happened to him. But if it came down to just the two of us, I would kill him in a heartbeat.

That being said, I don't think he's going to last too long with that Drew guy hanging with him. If they make it past the bloodbath, his blindness will surely slow them down. Maybe Tomas is starting to realize that as well.

"The two of you are very strong tributes," Seeder says, cupping her tea between her hands. "You'll both do well." Despite her words, she looks nervous, her wrinkled face covered in concern. I've seen it before, when the plants in her garden aren't doing very well, or the Peacekeepers are cracking down on the poorer citizens in the District. I never thought I would see it in this kind of situation.

"I'm very proud of you both," she continues, and I can tell she's struggling. I can't imagine what it's like to watch tribute after tribute fall prey to the others year after year. It must take everything she has to mentor them each year.

"Thank you for everything, Seeder," I say, reaching out to touch her hand. She gives me a strained smile.

…

Later that night, I lay awake in my bed, waiting for sleep to come. I knew it would be hard to sleep, but I didn't expect thoughts of my parents to keep me up. I find that I'm not afraid of tomorrow any more than I have been since the Reaping; I'm just afraid for my parents. How will they live without me? My brother Sage is too young to go through this, but old enough to understand what's happening. What will happen next year when the Reaping rolls around? If I don't survive, he will be terrified to meet the same fate. If I die, will my parents still think my participation is an honor? Or will they grow to hate the Games? Do they even realize that my life is on the line?

I toss and turn until I simply can't anymore, sitting up to change the scene on my window from the city to a sparse forest. It reminds me of the orchards in Eleven, at home. I never had to pick in the orchards, but Marigold had to work year-round to support her family. I wonder if she is grateful that I volunteered for her, or if she wishes she could be released from her painful life. For the first time, I wonder if I've made a mistake.

 _Jason Sparks (18)- D6M_

I'm surprised that I managed to get any sleep at all. When I wake up in the morning, I actually feel well-rested, though my stomach feels full of butterflies. I try to get ahold of myself as I dress in my training clothes for the last time. My stylist will change me into my outfit for the arena once we reach it.

Attie and I eat a small breakfast on our way to the roof, where the hovercraft will pick us up. I nervously take a bite of my apple, trying to ignore Attie's presence in the elevator. My stomach is starting to feel a little unsettled, like I might vomit. I breathe in deeply and the feeling dissipates. Even if I never get to use my Peacekeeper training in the field, I can use it for this. Focused thinking is the key, removing all worries from my mind.

We arrive on the roof in no time, most of the other tributes already there. Peacekeepers are loading us into the hovercraft one at a time, ensuring that everyone is secured in their seats. Attie and I wait our turn, the escort giving each of us a hug. The mentors are as high as a kite and nod to Attie as we enter the hovercraft. I can only hope they'll remember to gather my sponsors and send me gifts at the right time. Surely they must know that I will be receiving lots of them due to my training score. Of course, it's all contingent on if I survive the bloodbath.

I catch Nikki's eyes as she's loaded into the hovercraft, followed by the Fives and then us. She looks just the way I feel, her jaw clenched and eyes determined. The Peacekeepers sit us down in our assigned seats and pin our arms down with metal bars, another Peacekeeper coming around to inject our trackers into us. As the rest of the tributes are strapped in, the hovercraft starts to take off.

It's a strange feeling, being in the sky. The hovercraft is very loud, and the knowledge that we're floating in the air makes me uneasy. I can feel the girl from Five squirming next to me. She must also be uncomfortable squeezed into her small seat. I look past her, hoping to see Nikki again. A Peacekeeper is giving her her tracker, but she doesn't so much as blink as he injects it. The guy from Five has a similar reaction, though he looks tense. I realize he's probably had a lot of the same training that I had since he's the son of a Peacekeeper as well. His eight in training is surely impressive, and it seems like he and his sister have made up. I'm sure he would do anything to protect her. I'm suddenly aware of how much competition I'm up against in these Games. How many people will I have to kill to see the world outside of the arena again?

Nikki is prepared to kill whoever she has to in order to win. She doesn't have to tell me; I can see it in her eyes. As for me, I'm not sure. I would kill a Career for sure, those murderous bastards. But a small child? Even an older tribute who never thought of harming anyone before they were Reaped? I'm not sure if I could do it.

The tracker hurts as it's inserted into my arm. I breathe in deeply as to minimize the pain, trying to ignore the tiny device now inside me that allows the Gamemakers to track my every move. I know the pain of this will be nothing compared to what I'll have to endure in the arena.

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

I feel Rufina's legs jumping up and down with excitement beside me, and I while it's annoying, I also feel like I can't contain my eagerness. I've waited ten years for this; a chance to prove my worth to my country, show my strength and prove District Two is the best in Panem. I grin as I remind myself of my goal for the bloodbath: kill more than three tributes. Killing four people in the bloodbath is a grand feat that's hardly ever accomplished, maybe only eight times in the history of the Games. But Cassius killed three in his bloodbath, so I need to beat his record. I'm sure that I can beat his overall record of five kills for sure, but four in the bloodbath will be difficult. I need to focus and gather all my strength for the coming hours.

The hum of the hovercraft keeps me somewhat in the present, otherwise I would already be fantasizing about my Victory Tour. The Capitol will love me just like they love all victor families. Cassius and I will be the biggest celebrities Panem has ever seen.

I can feel the bloodlust beneath my skin, my fingertips itching to get around some of these pathetic tributes' throats. Cassius said that the first time killing another human being is exhilarating, and it only gets better each time. Holding human life and death in the palm of my hand sounds better than any dummy I've sliced open, even any of the squirrels that we killed at the Training Academy. For the next few weeks, I will be a menace to these other tributes. They will fear me like children fear the Big Bad Wolf, and will run from me like piglets who will be inevitably caught and devoured. The edge of my sword will be the last thing they feel.

Rufina's leg bumps into mine again. I glance over to see she's frowning slightly, staring at nothing. She doesn't look very excited anymore, in fact, she looks nervous. I don't know if what she said during her interview, about wanting to prove herself to her family, is true, but I suppose we each have our own reasons for fighting. On my other side, the girl from Three is emotionless as always. I've noticed that about her recently. I wonder if she will finally scream with fear when her killer plants a blade into her fragile body.

Tiffany and Tiger also don't look as excited as I am, though I'm sure they're just as eager to get their hands bloody as I am. Tiffany's lips are moving silently as if reciting something. Probably one of her mantras about the Games. Tiger, on the other hand, simply looks brooding. It's probably just an act to scare the others, but I imagine he's also thinking hard about his duties for the bloodbath. It's a shame that he's so determined to hate me; I have nothing against the guy. Despite his careful planning and calculating about the Games, he can't seem to rationalize his own behavior.

Not that it's going to matter when it comes down to it. Everyone knows I'm the strongest tribute here, scores or not. I could take Tiger or anyone else and come out on top every time. I have nothing to worry about except staying focused. It's time to get my hands dirty.

 _Rooker Holm (13)- D12M_

My breath is coming quickly, and I'm starting to feel slightly faint. I wouldn't be the first tribute to faint on their pedestal, but it's a sure death sentence. The mines buried in the ground would blow me up immediately. At least it would be a short, painless death… but my insides twist at the thought of death, no matter how it comes to me. I have to see my parents again, hug Flint and maybe work up the courage to tell Gaia how I feel. I can't die yet, I just can't.

I feel my eyes start to tear up, my face turning red. The hovercraft jumps up slightly from turbulence, causing me to squeeze my eyes shut and hold onto the arms of my chair. My arm throbs where my tracker was injected. I can't imagine how it would feel to be impaled on someone's weapon. The instinctual terror of death fills every part of my body until I feel it in my bones, my limbs seizing up. Last night I convinced myself I was brave enough to vy for supplies at the Cornucopia, but now it's obvious that isn't the case at all. I have to run away to save my own life. That's all I can do.

The hovercraft bounces again, and I let out a little whimper. Thankfully, no one seems to notice, too caught up in their own thoughts. My ears start to pop the same way they did when the craft began its descent, which means we're probably on our way back down. The knowledge makes my stomach swoop suddenly, making me feel even more faint. I can't tell how long we've been in the air; it could have been ten minutes or two hours and I wouldn't know. And now there's only maybe a half hour before the Games begin.

My ears continue to pop until he craft finally stutters to a halt and jolts as it lands. The noises and jarring movements make me even more wound up until I can hear my blood pounding in my ears. The Peacekeepers start unloading us from the craft one district at a time, meaning Eryn and I are last. She looks just as scared as me, her eyes wide and glassy. The Peacekeepers release us from our confining seating and stand us up, then bind our hands together behind us. They start to march us off the hovercraft and into the underground of the arena, in which the hovercraft has landed.

My heart is beating faster and faster, and my limbs feel slightly numb. I feel my grandmother's bronze brooch knocking against my chest as I walk, reminding me of what I have to come home to. I can't let my fear get in the way of my survival. I have to keep my head on my shoulders. My mom always said that I have the most creative ideas about the world, even though most other people thought they were stupid. Maybe I can use that to my advantage. It's the only chance I have.

 _Sock Northsilk (12)- D8F_

My arms burn from how harshly the Peacekeepers have them pushed together. Spool and I are led into a hallway with a few others, and once the doors close behind us, they let our arms go.

"Remember the plan," Spool whispers to me as I rub my wrists. "Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"I'm not going to do anything stupid!" I hiss back. It's foolish to talk about our plan in front of the others, even if they probably can't hear us. "I'll see you in a half-hour or so, alright?"

He continues to stare at me in doubt as the Peacekeepers lead us in opposite directions. Eventually, I am the only tribute in sight, completely isolated from everyone except my two guards. I feel the reality of the situation sink in once the lights start getting dimmer and dimmer the farther we travel. I'm under the arena right now, the place where I will either die or kill others. Either thought is terrifying, but I keep my jaw set firmly. I am willing to kill to save myself. I _will_ kill to save myself, along with Seb and Spool if they are threatened. I am a warrior now, and warriors are never afraid.

We eventually reach a dark door with my name and district number printed on it. One of the Peacekeepers knocks on it, and my stylist answers a few moments later. He grins when he sees me, shooing away my guards and pulling me inside.

"It's almost time, darling!" He says cheerfully, sitting me down a plush couch in the middle of the room. I run my fingers over it absently as my stylist pitters around the room, babbling nonsensically. I glance around to take in my surroundings; the room is bigger than I thought it would be, complete with a large locker to hold my clothes, a few soft chairs to rest in, a large TV screen, and, of course, the tube that will carry me up into the arena.

I kind of want to get a closer look, but I'm immobile at first, somehow paralyzed by fear like a child. _I'm a warrior,_ I tell myself firmly, and gather enough courage to stand and inspect the tube. It's clear for the most part, with a gray platform at the bottom for me to stand on. It's much longer than I expected, stretching up several meters before stopping an another gray circle. I swallow hard as I make my way back to my seat.

"Eager, huh?" my stylists asks me, his eyes twinkling. He's holding my outfit for the arena, small like me and colored unflattering orange. "You're not the only one. You should know that everyone in the Capitol adores you. We're all rooting for you!"

He winks, laying the outfit down on the couch.

"Thank you," I say softly. He's right. The Capitol might send us supplies since Seb scored so high, but how can we rely on that when the Careers are hoarding the Cornucopia's treasures? I can't sit by and let our biggest enemies get the easy way out of the _Hunger_ Games. I'll meet Seb and Spool at Spool's pedestal, sure. But I might be taking a little detour first.

 _Albert "Triple A" Anderson (13)- D9M_

I carefully inspect my outfit as my stylist fits it to my body. It's a strange thing, baggy in the pants and arms, but covering most of my body up to my neck down to my ankles. The material is almost shaggy in the way that it hangs off of my body, but luckily it's pretty easy to move around in. I swing my arms around in a circle, both to warm myself up and get used to my new clothes.

My shoes are heavy-duty boots, tan in color and a little harder to run in than my beat-up shoes from back home. I also have a jacket that's the same tan as my boots, which is also baggy and made of reflective material on the outside.

"It's made to reflect heat," my stylist informs me happily. "And it's water-resistant! Lucky you."

"Why is it so baggy?" I ask, moving my legs around and doing a few squats. "It feels weird."

"Also made for heat," she says, digging through my other clothes. "Gives you some air while also protecting you from sunburn. Oh, it sure sounds like you are in for a treat! I can't wait to see what arena they've cooked up this year!"

She finally finds what she was looking for, my token that was in the pocket of my pants. She hands it to me with a genuinely warm smile, and I can't help the affection that rises up in me at the kind gesture. She may be a psychopath like the rest of the Capiolites, but she isn't a complete monster.

"Thank you," I say, folding up the picture of me and my family and gently placing it in my pocket. "For everything."

"Oh, dear, it's my job!" She gives me a small hug, then turns away to send a message on the screen that's hanging on the other wall. I'm guessing it's the "ready to go" message for the other stylists and Gamemakers. I feel a sudden spike of adrenaline and have to sit down for a minute.

"Am I going up soon?"

"Oh, in a few minutes."

As she continues to busy herself with the screen, I remind myself of the plan. I have nothing to worry about as long as I can get to Eryn. She wanted to grab a backpack for supplies before running away, but I convinced her that was a bad idea. We can survive on the arena alone, I know we can. We're both very well-versed in survival, and we'll be able to find our own food.

As long as I can look Eryn in the eyes on last time, I will be beautiful eyes that change color depending on what she's wearing… I gulp as I think about it, feeling a small, impossible smile appear on my face. No matter what happens, as long as I can see Eryn again, I will be okay.

 _Andrew "Drew" de Luce (18)- D4M_

This is not at all what I expected from my Hunger Games.

I can feel my heart pounding furiously, and my hands clamming up from nerves. I can hear my stylist tapping on what I assume is a screen, and feel the itchy material of my arena outfit on my skin. But I can't see anything. Unless I win and fix my sight, I will never see my launching room, a place I have fantasized about for years. I will never see my arena. I won't even see my clothes.

My stylist had gently described them to me as she helped me get changed, but I can tell she is disappointed in me. One works with Career tributes for a reason: to see them conquer and kill and hopefully win. Now she's stuck with me, the blind kid.

I try not to focus on her and instead on my training. A heat-resistant outfit means the obvious: I'm looking at (well, not exactly) a hot-climate arena. If I was still in the Career alliance, this wouldn't be too much of a problem. There is usually plenty of water and iodine at the Cornucopia, and shade inside it. Now, who knows what this means for me and Tomas. At the very least, we'll have to find a water source and a place to hide me while Tomas searches for food. It's not like I will be much of a help.

The only chance I have in the bloodbath is to run, and hope there isn't a cliff right behind me. There usually isn't around Cornucopias, but I haven't been having the best luck recently. From there, Tomas will find me with the supplies he managed to grab, and lead me to a safe place. If someone tries to kill us, then I'm afraid we won't stand much of a chance. Tomas isn't exactly a terrific fighter, and my own skills are a little rusty, to put it lightly. Not only that, but… I don't know if I could kill anymore. My stomach twists at the thought. My family would be so disappointed in me if they knew that. Gregory is training hard to be where I am, and hopefully will be in four years. And yet here I am, second-guessing myself. Tomas is only one year older than Gregory, and younger than Fiona. And yet if I hadn't lost my sight, I would have murdered him without a second thought. How could I have been that way? How have I changed so much in only a few days?

"Only a few more minutes, Drew," My stylist's voice says.

For one of the first times in my life, I feel genuine fear crawl up into my throat. I only remember feeling it once before, before the operation on my left eye. My mother had held my hand as the doctors put me under, and I fought so hard against the anesthesia, even though I knew I shouldn't. I was just so afraid of losing the sight in my left eye that I couldn't help it.

But this time, I know I need to fight. I need to fight as hard as I can to survive, to restore my sight and see my family again. I need to fight harder than I ever have before.

 _Denver O'Casey (14)- D10M_

I feel like I'm going to faint. I've been teetering on the edge of consciousness all day, but now it feels worse than ever. I blink rapidly and take deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth, just like Filly instructed me this morning. At least the outfit is breathable, not constricting me like my training clothing and costumes for the Capitol. I'm too tense on the soft couch, my ears welling up with tears, whether from fear or sadness or anger I can't tell. I run my hands gently over the velvet material beneath me, sniffling so that my tears don't fall. If nothing else, I have to keep my dignity.

Most of that goes out the window, however, when I suddenly run to the sink in the corner of the room and vomit violently into it.

"Better to do that now instead of later," my stylist says matter-of-factly as I spit into the sink. "You could blow yourself up with it."

I whimper quietly as I wipe my mouth and head back to my seat, my body shaking all over. I try to remember what Filly told me before we were separated, but all I can think about are Daelyn's last words to me. _Say hi to Daisy for me_. I shudder as I remember Daisy's violent death in the bloodbath, her windpipe crushed under the strong hands of her opponent. I reach up to my own throat, where Daelyn's heart charm is hanging. I grasp it tightly in my palm.

"It's time, Denver!"

My stylist cheerfully whips me up and over to the tube that will take me into the arena. My breaths are coming even quicker now, and I can hear my blood rushing in my ears. My stomach is feeling unpleasant again, but I try to hold it in. I don't know the next time I will get to eat again.

The stylist adjusts my position in the tube and smiles at me, excitement glistening in his eyes. "You are a very sweet boy. Do your best, okay?"

I nod wordlessly, going over my plan with Filly. I'm going to run as fast as I can, and Filly will catch up with me with supplies. From there, we'll figure out where to go. I don't have to worry about anything, I just have to run away.

The tube's doors close suddenly and a countdown begins. My breaths are fogging up the glass as I watch my stylist watching me. He has a small smile on his face, giving me an encouraging nod. I try to stand up tall and control my shaking, but to no avail. He looks like a grim reaper that's happy to see me die. I whimper again and place a hand on the glass, desperate to get out. It was stupid of me to not run while I had the chance. I should have run as fast as I could away from this place and never looked back.

 _5...4...3...2...1…_

The tube suddenly starts to move upward, slowly but surely taking me to my fate. I swallow my tears, determined to show a brave face to the Capitol, to Daelyn and the rest of my family. I have to survive, to show everyone I'm not as weak and useless as they think.

* * *

 **Hiya, everyone! I hope you had a great week. The next chapter will be the bloodbath!**

 **Please remember to vote in the poll on my page. Not that many people are voting, and it makes me sad :( I just want to know who your favorite tributes are; I promise it doesn't change the outcome of anything in the Games! Anyone is welcome to vote, even if you didn't create any tributes.**

 **I also want to say something about the bloodbath. It might seem obvious, but I just want to warn you that a lot of characters are going to die in the next chapter. I know that a tribute's creator is going to be disappointed no matter how their creations die, so it's unavoidable. But I want everyone to know that the decision of who to kill off was incredibly difficult. I planned out the bloodbath immediately after receiving the tributes, but mylist changed over and over again. I had a horrible time making up my mind, but I think I finally have the final list. I hope everyone is pleased with go it goes, even if your tribute(s) die(s).**

 **That being said, please leave a review! What are your predictions for the bloodbath? Thanks for reading!**


	24. The Bloodbath

**First of all, I would like to thank whoever put this story into the SYOT Hall of Fame community. I don't know when that actually happened, but I just saw it recently on my story's properties page. It really means a lot 3**

 **Like I said last chapter, a lot of tributes are going to die in this chapter. The decisions were hard to make since I've grown attached to each and every one of these characters. IF yours dies, I hope you consider it a satisfying ending to their story. Ultimately, the decisions were based on who I thought would realistically die, their interactions with other tributes, and what makes sense for their story and the overall story.**

 **This chapter is also told in a slightly different way than many of the others. Since the bloodbath has so much happening at once, I hope you understand that many of these perspectives are simultaneous and therefore not entirely chronological. However, the deaths will be described in chronological order.**

 **I hope everyone enjoys the bloodbath (that feels so weird to say…)**

* * *

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

The sun is blinding when I am first exposed to it. I automatically raise my arm up to protect my eyes, then quickly remove it when I hear the tell-tale countdown in Claudius Templesmith's voice.

 _60...59...58...57...56...55…_

I quickly look around myself, taking in as much as I can. The Cornucopia is in front of me, glittering gold in the bright sunlight. The sun itself is beating down, making me sweat already. The ground beneath the pedestals is dry and covered with dirt and sand that blows up into my eyes. To my right, a large mountain blocks my view. There's another one to my left, though it's farther away. I can't see past the Cornucopia, but behind me is nothing but barren desert. I can hear running water not far away, but I can't figure out where it is.

 _40...39...38...37...36...35…_

Water is one of our main goals for this first day. I glance around to try to find Denver, finally locating him on the other side of the semi-circle. He's a sickly shade of pale green that I can see even from here. I hope he remembers the plan and runs toward the sound of the water.

 _20...19...18...17...16...15…_

My limbs are trembling. I memorize the locations of each of the backpacks that are near my pedestal. There's a large knife not to far away, leaning against a small bag. It's perfect. I brace myself to start running. All I need to do is grab it and then bolt in Denver's direction. The tribute on my right is the girl from Twelve, and on my left is the blind guy from Four, so I imagine I won't have to worry about getting injured unless I cross paths with a Career.

 _5...4...3...2...1…_

The gong sounds and I feel my feet start moving forward before my body is prepared for it. I reach the backpack and knife quicker than i thought I would, slinging it over my back and holding my knife resolutely. I take a second to take in the scene around me. Everyone is still mostly running either towards the Cornucopia or far away, so I start sprinting towards Denver. He's still there on his pedestal, still too terrified to move. I hear sounds of battle coming from the Cornucopia, but I purposely ignore it.

"Denver!" I shout. "Start running!"

He looks toward me, his eyes wide and scared. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something coming towards him, and I can only gasp as a spear penetrates his abdomen. He falls to the ground and out of sight, his killer blocking the view. The girl from Two turns back to look towards me, her eyes glittering with malice.

Sudden terror rises within me as I stop running, debating on what I should do. The girl turns back to Denver and pulls out her spear, wiping the blood on his clothes and starting to come towards me. I gasp in panic and start to run the opposite direction, moving faster than I ever have in my life. For a minute, I only hear the blood pounding in my ears and not the screams of horror and pain from behind me. I keep running until I reach the sound of the water, a small stream running over jagged rocks and pebbles. I don't stop, wading through the water and continuing to run until I reach the cover of several giant boulders.

I skitter to a stop behind one of them, peeking out to see if my pursuer is still there. I'm breathing heavily and my limbs are aching, and I realize that I've been running for quite some time. My pursuer definitely gave up long ago and stayed at the Cornucopia to make more kills.

Tears well up in my eyes at the thought of Denver lying on the dusty earth, his stomach split open. He died afraid and alone and probably in terrible pain. I wipe my eyes furiously and stare up at the mountainside that looms above me. There doesn't seem to be anywhere else to go, except back to the Cornucopia. The rocks around the base of it provide good cover, and I can see some shrubbery growing on the mountainside. It's a good a place as any to explore.

 _Grizelda "Zel" Weaver (18)- D9F_

My legs are working as fast as they can to get me away from the Cornucopia, my breaths coming heavy and the sun beating down to me. My plan before this was to grab something and run, but after seeing the District Ten boy impaled so cruelly, I knew I had to get out of here. Unfortunately, the pregnancy makes me slower than usual, and I'm no match for Tiffany's lean, trained legs.

"Stop!" she yells at me, as if I would actually listen. A blade whistles past me. It only adds to my urgency as I speed up my pace, but then one of them lands in my calf.

I scream out in pain as I collapse onto the ground, clutching at my leg, red blood oozing out and making me feel woozy. The girl from One grabs ahold of my other leg and starts pulling me back to the Cornucopia. I whimper and try to wriggle away, but it's no use. My leg is a blaze with pain, and terror for my baby and my own life fills every inch of my body.

"Let me go!" I scream as she continues to pull me back to the pandemonium. I hadn't run as far as I thought I had; we get there in no time. I have no idea what she has planned for me, but all I can think of is the horrible torture that some Careers afflict on their victims. Tiffany yells at the other Careers not to touch me as she drags me through the dirt into the inside of the golden horn. I try to kick her to get her to let go of me, but to no avail. Once we're in the Cornucopia, surrounded by supplies, she grabs a nearby rope on one of the cases of food and immediately wraps my body in it, making sure my arms are tightly wrapped inside it as well.

Tiffany rips the knife out of my calf, making me scream in pain again.

"Stay here," she hisses to me, then runs off in search of more prey.

I whimper as I hear the sounds of metal clanging outside the horn. The boy from Two runs in and smirks at me before calmly walking over to a large sword propper against a case. He picks it up and admires it, and I feel more tense than I've ever been. Luckily, he ignores me and heads back out to the battle.

Once I'm sure he's gone, I try to shrug my way out of the ropes, but every movement makes my leg hurt more. It's bleeding substantially, and I can feel it seeping into the dirt underneath me. I don't know what the Careers have planned for me, and I don't care to find out.

Just then, the guy from One sprints in, grabbing a large axe off the ground and grinning maniacally. He sees me and stops cold, raising an eyebrow. "Tiffany?" he calls,. "What did you do?"

"Leave her be!" Tiffany yells angrily from outside the Cornucopia. He shrugs and sprints away, his axe raised above his head, ready to strike. I wonder for the first time if Tiffany actually plans on keeping me alive instead of killing me. What would she gain from that, though? The other Careers wouldn't approve, but she maybe she feels sympathy for me since I'm pregnant. Did my sob story angle really work?

I spy a knife laying not too far away, the handle facing away from me. Maybe if I can reach it, I can free myself and fight my way out of here.

 _Pixel Mackaby (15)- D3M_

When that gong goes off, I really have only one thing on my mind: getting a knife and a backpack which hopefully contains something I can use. I run forward with everything I have, though it's not as fast as many of the tributes around me, who sprint at the speed of light toward the golden horn.

The bright sun is reflecting off the golden surface, making it hard to see where I'm going. I can't see a knife anywhere, and my panic is rising to an unmanagable level. I stop in my tracks and look around, watching as several tributes battle it out for supplies closer to the horn. I feel my breath coming quickly as I scan the area for anything I can use. I spy a knife a few feet away, propped up against a large case. The case is too big for me to take, but the knife will work just fine. After a moment's hesitation, I run toward the knife and grab it, it's sharp edge a terrifying reminder of what I'm here for.

To my right, I hear a scream of pain and watch as the boy from Ten collapses with a spear shaft poking out of his chest. The sight makes me freeze with fear, vomit threatening to come up my throat. His killer, the girl from Two, chases his ally and luckily doesn't notice me. With a renewed sense of urgency, I look around again to find anything that could be of use.

With a jolt, my eyes land on a thin spool of copper wire, nearly hidden in a pile of backpacks and cases near the Cornucopia. I can only see it because the sun is glinting off of it in exactly the right angle, a copper tone instead of a silver one like most of the weapons.

I know what I have to do. Executing my plan is the only way I will be able to survive the coming weeks. If I don't get that wire, the Careers will surely hunt me down and slice me apart. Shuddering, I try to gather my courage to make the sprint over to the golden horn.

There's a sudden scream of terror and pain from behind me, and I turn to see the girl from One dragging the girl from Nine across the ground. Afraid of the strong Career seeing me, I stand perfectly still and let them pass just a few feet away from me. I realize now could be my chance, while the girl from One is distracted, the girl from Two pursuing another victim. It's probably the best odds I could have.

With sudden determination, I set off in a full sprint to the wire. It takes longer than I expected, and with every step, I expect someone's weapons to fly out of nowhere and embed itself into me. But I keep going, hearing my blood pulse in my ears. I reach the wire and scoop it up, breathing heavily. I turn my back to the Cornucopia and look for an escape route through the chaos.

"Hey, little boy."

I turn to see the boy from Two standing there with his broadsword held firmly in his hand, grinning like a cat that's about to catch a mouse.

I scream in horror as his blade swings into my side, the pain not kicking in immediately due to my adrenaline. "No! Please!" I screech as the Career holds the sword above me and drives the point down into my chest. I feel myself sobbing in pain and gasping for air, and eventually the world becomes blurry...

 _Rufina Fastolf (18)- D2F_

After killing the boy from Ten, the very first kill of the Games, I feel like I'm flying high on victor adrenaline. I need to make another kill. Everyone knows that the amount of bloodbath kills made is a good predictor of a Career's chances at winning. The boy's ally is a good bet for a second victim; she scored an eight in training and would make a respectable kill. But she's fast, and eventually I realize I'm straying too far away from the Cornucopia. With a frustrated sigh, I look around and see another young boy sprinting away from the battle.

I grin to myself. I recognize his lanky body as the boy from Twelve. I smirk as I remember him snapping at me in training. An easy kill, but numbers are what matters right now. I start toward him, readying my spear. He notices me coming and I see his eyes widen in fear before he starts running in the opposite direction. My first spear throw misses, burying itself into the earth. I growl in vexation, picking it back up as I run past and aiming again. This time, the spear point pierces his body and goes through. He screeches in pain and falls to the ground.

I jog over to him and pull the spear out of his chest, grinning as he gasps and gurgles for air. Thick, dark blood is staining the ground red.

"That's what you get for being so annoying," I say, spitting on the flailing body. As he chokes to death, I glance around the clearing. In the distance, I can see a rolling desert with next to nothing else. The mountains to either side rise up above anything else. Behind me, the flat, bare earth continues for several miles, not rolling in dunes like the sand past the Cornucopia.

I need another kill. Having two kills already is a grand accomplishment, but both of them are weaklings with no real chance of winning anyway. I need a larger victory, to take out a real competitor. I scan the scene to find someone I can kill that will grant me sponsors. The girl from Ten would have made a good victim, but she's gone.

"Get out of the way!"

I turn to see Tiffany glaring at me, her usually perfect blonde hair tousled over her forehead. I glance behind her, where she's pulling the girl from Nine.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask as I move out of the way.

"Just focus on what you're doing!" she yells as she pulls the girl past me, leaving a trail of blood behind them as the girl struggles to get away.

I roll my eyes and look around. Willow is pulling her knife out of another body, wiping the blood on his clothes with disgust. I hear a scream of horror not far away and see the girl from Twelve watching Willow and her unlucky victim. She starts to run away, Willow's eyes narrowing as she starts after her.

"Let me!" I shout, taking off as well. "I can do it!"

Willow slows down and leaves me to it, a smile spreading over my face. Three kills is a respectable number for the bloodbath. I'm going to be one of the top picks for victor once the Capitol sees how eager I am for blood.

Rooker by Rufina- two kills and feeling good

 _Willow Whitebeam (17)- D7F_

When the gong goes off, my only thought is to get to the throwing knives at the mouth of the Cornucopia. I know knives are a valuable item in the Games, and I need them to help carry out the plan with the other Careers.

I sprint as fast as I can to the Cornucopia, ignoring everyone around me as I reach the knives. I scoop up the package and pull out the biggest knife, glancing around me. The girl from Three is directly behind me, apparently after the knives as well. She sees me wielding one and runs away, her legs taking her too far for my blade to strike her. Or, maybe I'm just not ready to kill. The knife feels heavy in my hands.

"Go, Willow!"

I turn to see Tiger yelling at me furiously. I take a deep breath and glance around for a potential victim. I spot one near the outskirts of the supplies, where the small girl from Twelve is rummaging through a case. I gather all of my courage and remind myself that I have to do this to survive. I grip my knife firmly and start on a sprint towards the girl.

As I approach, she looks up, her eyes wide with fear. She gasps and grabs a baggie of food before standing to run away. I ready my knife and toss it with all my might. It misses by a long shot and I shout in frustration. I pull out another knife and start to throw it, but then I feel something push me from the side.

I stumble and nearly fall over, but manage to regain my balance. The boy that pushed me starts to run away, and I grab his arm and pull him back to me. It's the boy from Nine that wore that ridiculous little boy costume in his interview. He screams and punches me in the face, making my lip alight with pain. I growl and stab him in the side with my knife, pulling it out and watching him fall to the ground. He gasps up at me, his eyes glazing over with fear and pain. I kick him over and wipe my mouth with my sleeve, part of it coming away red.

My knife is covered in the red, sticky substance, so I wipe it on his clothes, wincing. I turn back to the girl, who is looking at me with horror. She screams as I start to run towards her.

"Let me!"

It's Rufina, already sprinting after the girl. Her jacket is splattered with blood, and her spear is dripping with it. I slow down despite myself. She can take the girl if she wants to. I don't want to move too far from the Cornucopia anyway, even though my job is to stay on the outskirts of the battle.

I glance around for another target. Seb is waiting at the edge of the battle with his little boy ally, both of them watching the fight with obvious horror. I know it would be smart to try and take out Seb… his training score combined with his Capitolite fans will surely make him a competitor.

Just then, Seb starts running towards the Cornucopia. I grip my knife firmly in my hand and start heading towards him.

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

I stay where I am when the gong goes off, per Seb's orders. He sprints towards me as soon as possible and grabs my arm.

"Where's Sock?" he asks, sounding panicked. "What did she do?"

"I don't know!" I say. "We have to get out before we become targets."

"There she is!" Seb says, pointing to where Sock is running toward the Cornucopia at full speed. Her raven hair is flowing behind her, her eyebrows furrowed in determination. She isn't listening to the plan after all.

"She's too headstrong for her own good," Seb says.

"What do we do?" I ask fearfully.

"Get to the bottom of the western mountain. We'll meet you there. Don't hang around!"

Before I can say anything, he starts sprinting towards the Cornucopia. My breath starts coming quickly when I realize I'm alone here in the battle, without either of my allies. I watch as Sock manages to get to the Cornucopia and immediately opens a box in right in front of the hor and gets inside, closing it over her. What the hell is she doing?

"Leave me alone, you bitch!" I hear Seb scream suddenly, followed by a thud of metal. I watch in horror as Willow throws a knife at Seb, only for him to dodge it and tackle her to the ground. He punches her across the face, but she grabs another knife from her belt and stabs into his arm. He yells in pain and slaps her again, grabbing the knife from her hand and running back to me.

"Go, Tag! What are you waiting for?"

"What about Sock?"

"We have to go!"

He grabs my arm when he passes me, and we run to the mountain together. We pass the boy from Twelve, who is gasping on the ground, blood pouring from his abdomen and his intestines spilling out into the open air. I feel my stomach turn and I think I might throw up. We keep running until my sides hurt and I'm more out of breath than I've ever been, but we can't stop now. I look back and realize anyone can see us from the Cornucopia since there isn't any cover except for behind various boulders. Seb was right; the mountain is our best bet. We can only hope Sock will find us eventually.

This one is shorter than the other mountain, but there are more trees and vegetation is general. It isn't difficult to find a path up the slope, both of us gasping for air as we hike up the jagged but gently curved rock. Though I know in my mind that we will need to eventually find a good place to lay low and get water, but right now the only thought on my mind is putting as much distance between us and the bloodbath us possible.

The loose soil underneath me makes me slip, scraping my hands on the ground. I groan as I stand back up. Seb is staring behind me, one hand pressing against the puncture in his bicep.

"Look," he says quietly, pointing. I turn around and my jaw drops open.

"The ocean!" I say with delight. The water extends for as far as I can see. I've never seen the ocean before. It's a beautiful sight. If only Sock was here to see it. But I know she will soon… she has to...

 _Amelia Waltraud (16)- D5F_

Our plan is simple: Caleb will grab a weapon and I will get a backpack of supplies, two if I can manage it. Then we will meet up and run for the hills. Quite literally, it turns out. The arena seems to be built around two large mountains, the area around the Cornucopia completely desolite.

I meet Caleb's eyes as the countdown begins. He's on the other side of the semi-circle, but we will be able to meet up somewhere.

When the gong goes off, I immediately sprint toward the nearest backpack, swinging it over my shoulder and looking around for another one. There's a bright orange bag near the middle of the chaos that looks like it's bursting with goodies. I decide to take a chance and run towards it. Right as my hand grasps the strap of the bag, another one slaps mine out of the way. It's the boy from Eleven, his green eyes filled with equal parts fear and malice. I grab and bag and furiously start pulling it away, but he hangs on as well. Then he suddenly lets go and turns tail, running away as fast as possible.

I sigh in relief and start to swing the pack over my shoulder when I hear the cry of, "Amelia!"

I turn to see the boy from One standing behind me, one eyebrow raised. He doesn't say anything before he swings his axe over his head and brings it down to where I'm standing. I gasp and manage to barely move out of the way, tripping on the backpack at my feet and falling onto my back. I whimper as I start to crawl away from my enemy, his grin widening as he raises the axe again.

Before he can swing it down, someone suddenly tackles him to the ground, Peacekeeper style. It's Caleb, and he's furious.

"Not my little sister, you brute!" he screams, trying to hold down Tiger's arms. The Career knees him in the stomach and flips him over, raising his axe again.

"What about you then?" he asks innocently as he brings it down onto Caleb's neck. I feel myself scream but don't hear it as I quickly get to my feet and sprint away, forgetting to grab the second bag or even a weapon.

I keep running until I'm out of breath and I find a large boulder to collapse behind. I peek around it to see how far I've gone, and discover the Cornucopia is now a glittering triangle shape in the distance, with some hazy humanoid figures running around it. I cover my face with my hands, not wanting Panem to see me cry, but I can't help it. All I can think about is the shower of blood that sprayed from Caleb's throat, the way his eyes had looked right at me, but were unseeing. But it was the strangest thing… he had been smiling.

I sob into my hands until I'm out of tears to cry. I sit back against the boulder, which is really a few rocks and a pile of dirt and sand, now that I look at it more closely, and open my bag. Inside, I pull out a flashlight with two batteries inside and another little baggie with two more, a small bag of dried jerky, a spool of twine, and a fire-starting kit. It's a generous haul, but I can't feel happy about it right now.

I look up at the tall mountain in front of me and sigh. Looks like it's time to put all that running with Elanor around Five to good use.

 _Eryn Winters (15)- D12F_

I can't help but scream when I see Triple A's blood pouring out from the wound that the evil girl from Seven gave him. It's all my fault. If I hadn't have tried to get any supplies like Triple A told me, he wouldn't be gasping in pain on the barren ground right now.

His killer wipes her knife on his clothes, then glances up at me. She starts to sprint towards me and I can only turn tail and run, pure terror coursing through my veins.

"Let me! I can do it!"

I recognize the voice as the girl from Two, who I've already watched spear Rooker like a piece of meat. My legs are moving as fast as they can, feeling tears of fear well up in my eyes. Triple A is gone, and now I only have myself.

I look behind myself to see how close my pursuer is, my terror increasing when I see her closely following my footsteps. I suddenly run into something in front of me and fall to the ground, gasping up at the large tribute in front of me.

"What are you doing?" the guy from Six asks. He notices the girl from Two and steps around me, eyes hardening and gripping his sword. "Leave her alone," he growls at the encroaching girl.

"Get out of my way," the girl snarls, readying her spear. "Or I'll have to take you out as well."

"Then do it!"

Rufina lunges with her spear but falls away at the last second, making Jason stumble a little before regaining his balance. She easily sidesteps the swing of his sword, and thrusts forward again, still without luck. Unwilling to stay and see how the battle turns out, I scramble to my feet and hurry away, the small pack of supplies in my hand feeling heavier and heavier the farther I run. I traded Triple A's life for this meager bag of supplies.

I can't help but burst into tears once I make it into the sprawling desert. Looking back, it seems the Cornucopia was built in some kind of mountain pass between the two mountains. The desert is hot and unwelcoming, but the dunes of sand will provide me with cover. I keep running, even when the sand under my feet makes it harder to run and sends me flailing to the ground multiple times.

I run until i'm panting and sweating more than I ever have in my life. I gently let myself slide down one of the dunes until I'm at the bottom. It provides me with shade and cover while I go through the contents of my bag. The little drawstring bag contains an empty bottle for water, a spool of twine, and a stretch of sturdy fabric. It's not a bad haul, but I don't have any food or water to help me survive, and it doesn't look like there's a lot around here...

 _Antonia "Attie" Montgomery (17) D6F_

After Tesla's failed mission to grab throwing knives, our plan is somewhat shot. I watch as she successfully evades the girl from Seven, then make her way back to me at the outskirts of the battle. I'm holding our bag of supplies that we'll need to survive, and I know that we have to get out as soon as possible. The girl from Two has been picking people off at the edge of the scene, and we could be next.

"We need some kind of weapon," Tesla tells me calmly when she's reached me. She doesn't seem perturbed at all by the violence that's exploding around us. I watch as the boy from One severs the neck of the guy from Five, his blood spraying out obscenely.

"We should leave," I say, daring to contradict her. "We can survive without a weapon. We have supplies."

Tesla shakes her head, her raven hair bouncing. "How many victors didn't get a weapon during the bloodbath?"

"Not too many," I admit. "But we have each other."

I'm hoping the semi-affectionate words will convince her, but she still looks at me expressionlessly. I hear grunts of exertion and look behind me. Not too far away, Jason is fighting with the girl from Two. I watch the battle go on viciously, hoping the two of them manage to kill each other.

I hear the tell tale screams of pain and turn towards the Cornucopia, where the girl from One is gutting the girl from Eleven, the Capitolite. Blood gurgles up from her mouth as the blonde continues to shove her sword as far as she can into her stomach.

Maybe Tesla doesn't have such a bad idea after all. With most of the Careers preoccupied, we will have a better chance of surviving an excursion to the center of the chaos.

"I see a sword we can use," Tesla says suddenly. She's looking at the middle of the battle, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't see anything," I say truthfully.

"It's right there." She points to a pile of cases and backpacks. "Let's go get it together."

I shrug, trying to seem as nonchalant as she is. "Alright."

We head towards the center of the battle, keeping an eye out for any enemies. When we reach the pile in question, Tesla says, "It's under that case right there," pointing to one at the bottom of the pile. "I'll keep watch."

"Okay…" I bend down to rummage through the supplies, but I can't find anything resembling a weapon. "Tesla, I don't think-"

Something suddenly pulls me backwards by my backpack and pushes me into another tribute's strong chest. It's the boy from One, his clothes splattered with blood. He grins at me menacingly, one hand holding onto my arm.

"It looks like your friend sacficed you to me," he says with a short laugh. I feel pure terror course through me and struggle to get away. He miraculously lets go of me and I turn to sprint away, only to feel the blade of his axe splitting into my back. I can't even scream from the pain, only gasp and try to crawl away, feeling the excruciating pain of my attacker pulling the axe out of my back.

"Sweet dreams," I hear him say before the axe comes down on my head.

 _Tomas Fields (15)- D11M_

After losing the backpack at the Cornucopia to the girl from Five, I scurry to the edge of the battle, far away from where she's surely being clobbered to death by the guy from One. I grab another backpack from the outskirts of the area, glancing around for a weapon that I can use. I spot a curved sword not too far away, but it's close to the center of the battle. I gather my courage and start running towards it. Drew and I will need a weapon to survive. We wouldn't stand a chance without one.

I snatch the sword up, trying to keep my surroundings in perspective to avoid being crept up on. I've watched too many tributes on the television get chopped in half because they weren't paying attention.

I hear a furious shout of pain behind me and look back to see the boy from Two holding his shoulder, thick red blood seeping through his fingertips. In front of him, the small girl from Eight is sitting in an opened crate, holding a bloody knife. She hops out of the crate, but the Career grabs her and slices at her waist with his broadsword. She falls to the ground with a gasp as he hacks at her again, yelling in fury. Beside him, the girl from One finishes gutting Jo. I feel my heart sink when I see her Capitolite face expressionless and covered in blood. I sprint away before her killer can notice me.

Me pounding feet take me to Drew. He's stumbling away from the blood and chaos faster than I expected, the fact that there's no hindrances in his path certainly helping him. I know he'll be an easy target for any tribute willing to prove themself, so we need to get as soon as possible. As I catch up to him, I place a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

"It's just me!" I yell. "I've got the supplies, we need to keep going straight."

"What is the arena?" Drew asks as we jog onward, his unseeing eyes unfocused on the dusty terrain. "It feels hot. A desert?"

"I think so. There's mountains… we're coming up on something. We have to keep going."

Eventually the mountain pass becomes rocky enough that we have to slow down so I can guide Drew through the obstacles. Maybe it's a figment of my imagination, but the ground seems to start sloping downward. Before long, a strange smell reaches me nose. It smells like salt and fish, a scent I never thought I would smell. Soon, we hear the crashing of waves and chirping of birds.

"It's the ocean," Drew says with longing. "I knew it. We have to get to it."

"There's a cliff," I realize suddenly. The edge is coming up on us fast. I slow him down with a hand on his chest and watch the blue expanse extend in front of us. "It really is the ocean."

"We have to find a way down to the shore," Drew says, trying to move forward. "There has to be a path somewhere."

"Alright. But be careful."

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_

After the gong goes off, Jason and I each run toward the Cornucopia with purpose. I saw my trident leaning against the golden horn immediately, just waiting for me to snatch it up. I manage to reach the Cornucopia in no time, admiring the way the silver points glimmer in the sunlight.

Jason and I need to meet up quickly and get out as fast as possible. As much as I would like to get my hands around some of the Careers' throats, it's just not safe. I sprint back to the edge of the battle, past the girl from Seven pulling her knife out of the boy from Nine. I hear more screams of pain and terror from other parts of the bloodbath. It looks like the Games are in full swing.

I hear a clash of metal to my right, and I turn from the case that I'm rummaging through to see Jason fighting furiously with Rufina. She leaves a spot open for him to punch her in the face, and she growled loudly, nicking nhis arm with her spear. She kicks him in the stomach and twirls her spear menacingly, baring her teeth like an animal.

"Jason!" I yell, grabbing my trident and sprinting towards them. Rufina turns to me and her eyes harden.

"Traitor!" Rufina shouts, the point of her spear nearly hitting my shoulder. I parry it with my trident and kick her in the shins, trying to get her to fall. She steadies herself and tries to stab my stomach. I dodge again and toss my trident at her, but she ducks out of the way.

Jason's sword swings out of nowhere, slamming into her arm and making her yell in pain. She throws her spear at his legs but misses, and I kick her feet so that she falls on the ground. I grab my trident.

"Stop!" Rufina screams just before I plow my trident into her chest. Blood bubbles up between her lips, her eyes wide and afraid. They eventually go glassy and her head tilts back onto the dusty ground.

Jason spits blood onto her corpse, hands on his knees. "We have to get out," he gasps.

"Are you alright?" I ask with concern. His arm is bleeding, his jacket sliced up and stained red.

"Yes, I'm fine. Let's go."

He grabs his sword and runs in the opposite direction, his bright green backpack glaring in the sun. I turn to Rufina's body, her blood now seeping closer to my feet, spreading over the ground. I pull my trident from her chest, wincing at the crunching sound. My parents always said that when I made my first kill, I would feel powerful and develop a taste for blood. But I don't really feel that… I don't feel any different at all. The body beneath me almost doesn't seem like a person anymore.

I grab a backpack beside me and run after Jason.

 _Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M_

After I'm finished with the girl from Six, I continue to prowl around the bloodbath looking for more victims. Most of the tributes have dissipated at this point, leaving several bodies to decay on the barren earth. I shake the blood from my axe and take a deep breath. The air smells like fear and blood. It's better than I even imagined.

Inside the Cornucopia, Hadrian is cupping his shoulder, trying to wrap it in a bandage he found in a crate. I can't help but smirk when I see him wincing in pain. It's what he deserves, after all. The girl that stabbed him was annoying and I'm glad she's dead, but she did serve a purpose after all. Her body is hanging over the side of a large crate, some flies already starting to buzz around her.

"Where's Rufina?" Hadrian huffs. "She needs to help me put this on."

"Maybe she's chasing someone," Willow says. She's still holding her knife firmly in her fist. "What is Tiffany doing?"

I sigh. I knew Tiffany was naive, but not this much. Why didn't she just kill the pregnant girl when she first came across her? Instead she chased her down and tied her up, and is now dragging her out into the sun. She tosses the screaming, wriggling girl onto the ground.

"What are you doing to me?" the girl cries.

"I'm saving our baby," Tiffany says. "Try to die quickly."

She pulls the girl's head back by her hair and slits her throat. She gasps and gurgles and writhes as her life seeps out of her body.

Tiffany stands and wipes her hands together to get off the dust. "We need to get away from here so they come get the bodies."

"Let's size up the area first," Hadrian says.

"No! We have to leave so that they can save the baby in time."

Hadrian rolls his eyes and grumbles, tying off the rest of his bandage. "Fine. We need to find Rufina anyway."

I wipe my axe on the pregnant girl's clothes to clean the blood. I've been looking forward to a good chase since the Reaping.

"Guys!" Willow shouts from just beyond where the pedestals are. "Get over here!"

I tighten my hand on my axe and sprint over to her, Tiffany and Hadrian following close behind me. WIllow is standing over a body that's bleeding into the thirsty earth. Willow moves aside, her face stricken, and I can see that it's Rufina, her mouth open in eternal surprise and her chest ripped open with what was unmistakably a trident.

"Nikki!" I hiss. "She's the one that did this."

Tiffany sighs heavily. "It's too bad. But that's the nature of the beast. We should leave and let them come get her."

I feel my heart sink as we leave the area. I can' t help but remember the kind words Rufina said to me just last night. Of course, it's like tiffany said… it's just the way things have to be.

* * *

 **So there it is! The first ten deaths of the Games! I hope that if your tribute died, you weren't too disappointed. I want to do little eulogies for each tribute, so here goes nothing.**

 **24th:** _ **Denver O'Casey (14)- D10M-**_ **killed by Rufina. Created by iridescenteverdeen. I think most people saw Denver's death coming. He was just too little and scared to really survive a big battle like this one. But he was super fun to write, and it's hard to see him go.**

 **23rd:** _ **Pixel Mackaby (15)- D3M**_ **\- killed by Hadrian** _ **.**_ **Created by OChirpO. Poor Pixel didn't stand much of a chance either. He had a great plan, but unfortunately things don't always work out. He was another one that was fun to write considering his paranoia and intelligence. He was a great character.**

 **22nd:** _ **Rooker Holm (13)- D12M-**_ **killed by Rufina** _ **.**_ **Created by haydesx. I know some of you had high hopes for Rooker, but this is where his journey ends. He was such a sweet boy and didn't deserve such a violent end, but it was at least somewhat quick.**

 **21st:** _**Albert "Triple A" Anderson (13)- D9M**_ **\- killed by Willow. Created by MaxMan667. Triple A was a tough kid that didn't deserve anything that happened to him. His intelligence and kindness is what especially set him apart and made him likable. Ultimately, he died for his crush Eryn, which is a very noble way to go. I'm sad to say goodbye to him.**

 **20th:** _ **Caleb Odalric (18)- D5M-**_ **killed by Tiger. Created by LongingForRomeo. Caleb was one of my personal favorites in these Games. I think that I gave him a satisfying and happy ending in being able to save his sister's life. It is, after all, the only thing he's ever wanted. I know that his family and Jett will miss him.**

 **19th:** _ **Antonia**_ " _ **Attie" Montgomery- D6F-**_ **killed by Tiger. Created by LupineScribe. I think Attie is a character that never really got the spotlight she deserved. However, she was a great character and also one that I will miss writing. Her manipulation of others and unforgiving personality set her apart from the pack.**

 **18th:** _ **Sock Northsilk (12)- D8F-**_ **killed by Hadrian. Created by CragmiteBlaster. I know Sock was one that a lot of people wanted to see go far. I myself also loved Sock. She did manage to injure Hadrian before her death, so she did make her mark on these Games. We'll miss our warrior princess.**

 **17th:** _ **Marjoram "Jo" Paella (17)- D11F-**_ **killed by Tiffany. Created by QueensDoItBetter. Jo was an amazing character unlike anything I'd ever seen in a SYOT. She was so noble and kind, but still determined to win. Ultimately, her Capitol heritage spelled out her downfall. I'll definitely miss her as the Games progress.**

 **16th:** _ **Rufina Fastolf (18)- D2F**_ **\- killed by Nikki (and Jason). Created by SurvivalAboveAll. I always considered Rufina to be very relatable and funny as far as Careers go. She was determined to prove herself and just wanted approval from her mother. Unfortunately, that won't be happening now.**

 **15th:** _ **Grizelda "Zel" Weaver (18)- D9F-**_ **killed by Tiffany. Created by Krystal Fox. Zel's story was always one of the most sympathetic in these Games. Tiffany wanted her baby to survive, so hopefully she will. I think that if Reina lives, Zel would have been okay with herself dying.**

 **Thank you so much for reading! Which deaths surprised you? Stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	25. The First Day: Anticipation

_Andrew "Drew" de Luce (18)- D4M_

I can feel the back of my neck burning from the sun, sweat dripping off my nose. The ground is loose under my feet. Tomas said it's a rocky terrain around the mountains, and only becomes worse as we near the ocean. Tomas' hand is sweaty in mine as he slowly leads me down the slope.

"I think the cliff is too steep to climb down," Tomas says nervously.

"I can do it!" I growl, trying to keep moving forward. "I can do anything you can do if you help me."

"I don't think I can even do it," Tomas says. "It's a straight cliff."

"There has to be a way down. Otherwise it wouldn't be here."

"It could be the edge of the arena."

"No, it's too close to the Cornucopia. We need to get down there."

"Alright, let's look around."

He sounds exhausted. I try to remember that he's not trained for this. We've been running around in the desert heat for an hour or so now without any water or rest. It isn't bothering me as much, but I've been doing things like this for years back at the Academy.

"Try to look for a gap in the greenery," I say as we move along what I assume is the edge of the cliff. "That's how Gamemakers indicate a secret path."

"There's hardly any green in the first place," Tomas reminds me, sounding irritated. But I know there is some; I can feel the knee-high, rough, and itchy weeds brushing against my legs, even through the material of my pants.

Eventually, Tomas sighs and lets go of my hand. "Maybe we can climb down," he says from somewhere around my knees. "I can do it, but I don't know about you."

"How far is it?"

Tomas pauses. "Maybe forty feet."

I let out a sigh. "Well, we don't have much choice. We need water."

"We should stop and look at our supplies," Tomas says. "Then find somewhere to camp out for the night."

I can tell he's stalling. He doesn't want to see me fall off the cliff and die, or worse, injure myself so that he has to take care of me even more. And while I understand his hesitance, he must realize that we'll have to get down to the shore somehow, and quickly. The sea is an open invitation for any and all tributes to find water, so we need to get ours and get out as fast as possible.

Suddenly, cannon shots start ringing out into the humid air. I count each carefully, ending at ten. Only ten deaths. It's not a bad number, but also not phenomenal. It looks like Tomas and I will have lots of competition.

I can't see Tomas' reaction to them, and he doesn't say anything, so I continue our conversation as if nothing happened.

"Are we out in the open?" I ask skeptically. "If we're going to stop, we need to find cover."

"Uhhh… This area is pretty open. There's some boulders back behind us. We can hide there."

As we make our way to our shoddy cover, I grumble to myself about the Gamemakers not giving us any real shade, or any trees to climb. These arenas are always harder for the non-Careers. If I was still in the Career pack, I would be thrilled right now. But as I am, blind, unable to climb down a cliff or jog up a mountain, I'm pissed.

"This one hangs over us," Tomas says. "Kind of like a cave. We should get some rest. The sun will start going down soon."

I let Tomas lead me until my back is against the rock, then slide down onto the ground. I hear tomas rustling around in his pack as I stare at the only thing I can see: the sun. I suppose it can't do any damage to my eyes now. The direction of the bright light is the only thing I can make out.

"We have a water boiling kit!" Tomas says in delight, turning my attention over to him.

"Anything to start a fire?" I ask urgently.

"Some matches!" Tomas laughs happily. "You know how to make drinking water, don't you?"

"Yes, and you'll have to follow my instructions down to the T," I warn him. "Otherwise we'll dehydrate ourselves further."

"I know."

"What else do we have?"

"Hmmm… some kind of net. And some dried vegetables."

I turn to the sun again. "Not bad. We might stand a chance after all."

 _Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F_

After the bloodbath, I make my way to the small stream that runs through the arena, and cross it with ease. I stop for a moment to stare into the shallow water, wondering if it's safe enough to drink. Too bad I don't have anything to gather it with. Attie had the backpack when I pushed her into the guy from One. Perhaps I should have grabbed another one, but I wasn't sure if he would come after me as well.

I remind myself that I can find my way back if I get too thirsty. I need to find somewhere to stay close to this water source, but also close to the mountain. Since I don't have any supplies, it would be smart to stay near gathering areas for other tributes. It looks like I'm going to have to steal to survive.

I keep walking, baking in the heat until I reach a cluster of boulders at the foot of the mountain that I can hide in. It's not the best plan, but I don't have many other options. I glance up at the mountain. Unless, of course, the mountainside would be a better place to go. As far as I can tell, there aren't any sources of food down here, not even any fish in the stream. The vegetation is sparse and not at all edible, and it only get worse the farther south I go. The desert seems to sprawl on, empty and barren, for miles past the mountains.

But the mountain itself doesn't seem as hopeless. Although the lower parts are dry, the farther up I look, the more green I see. And the more animals that will live there.

But I hesitate. I know this play; I've seen it a thousand times watching the Hunger Games. The arena has only one or two places that tributes can find food or water or shelter, so everyone ends up going there. Death is always the end result.

I decide against climbing the mountain, even if it does look inviting and actually easy to jog up. I'm sure many other tributes had the same idea and will find their deaths at each other's hands. Meanwhile, I will stay down here and wait to swoop in and steal the remnants.

I find a good place to rest, sheltered from the heat and not yet hungry. I know I will be able to go for days without food, so I don't mind not having a major food source quite yet. And as for water; I may be thirsty, but I don't want to drink out of the stream yet. Not until I see someone else do it.

I sit and rest for a few hours, knowing that I will have a one-up on most of the tributes as far as energy goes. I didn't run as far as many of them probably did, instead preferring to stay at a reasonable distance to the Cornucopia. It will be another prime stealing location if it ever comes to that. The cannon shots for the fallen tributes ring out as I rest. Not a very good number, but hopefully the strong tributes took each other out so I won't have to.

I try to stay lost in my thoughts and not focus on my current situation, but I feel thirstier and thirstier the longer I stay still. The sounds of the stream flowing not far away isn't helping. I'm trying to decide if I should just go and get a drink, no matter how dangerous, when I hear chatter bouncing off the rocks.

I immediately freeze and stay where I am, hoping that they don't see me. If it's an alliance of two non-Careers, maybe I'll be able to follow them and steal some supplies when they fall asleep. Unfortunately, the voices sound a lot like that of the boy from Two. I became well-acquainted with his manner of speaking after being seated next to him for so many events.

I pull my legs in closer to me, hoping they won't check my little cluster of rocks. When I hear them getting closer, I stand up to make my body even flatter against the rock, peeking out behind it to see my opponents. It's the boy from Two like I deduced, as well as the girl from Seven. They're talking together and not really watching their surroundings, which is a plus. But they aren't completely oblivious; they're coming to my hiding spot to check if someone is there.

I quickly hide behind the rock again, listening closely to see if I can hear their footsteps. As they approach me on the right, I move silently to the left, around the rock so they can't see me.

"I knew she wasn't going to win, but still," the boy says. "Dying in the bloodbath? She's disgrace to District Two."  
"I hear you," the girl says. Despite their conversation, it does sound like they are checking around for tributes. "Does it look like someone was sitting here to you?"

I slowly back up until I can hide behind yet another rock, heart pounding. I need to keep my wits about me to get out of this.

"Could have been an animal."

"But these look like footprints."

"Are you sure those aren't yours?"

The two are silent for a time, then the girls chuckles and says, "Yeah, maybe."

"If someone did stop here, they would have went that way."

Luckily, _that way_ seems to be the opposite direction. I hold my breath until I can't hear their voices anymore. I look up at the mountain above me. They will probably go up there at some point to find tributes… and if they do, they'll be able to see me underneath them. I need to find a safer place to stay.

 _Jason Sparks (18)- D6M_

Nikki and I have been running for hours on end when we reach the cliff. We found the river almost immediately,, Nikki having a crazy sixth sense to find the water. Without a word, we had continued following the river away from the Cornucopia, just hoping it would lead us to somewhere safe. The sun is beating down on us, and the air seems to get heavier and heavier the farther we run.

My arm is bleeding onto the barren ground, holding my other hand over the puncture wound.. Nikki's long brown hair falls down her back in an elaborate braid, bouncing from side to side in front of me in a hypnotizing way. I can't stop thinking about her shoving her trident in Rufina's body, the trident she's still carrying now. The prongs are still stained with her blood, glistening in the sunlight.

The mouth of the river comes upon us suddenly. For far away, we can tell that it ends in a waterfall, but it's not until we reach the cliff itself that we realize where it leads to. The ocean extends before us, seemingly never ending. It's the bluest shade of blue that I've ever seen. It's an incredible sight; I never thought I would be able to see the ocean.

A light breeze blows off the water and reaches us, cooling us off. I sigh as I feel some of the sweat on my face dry, a very welcome sensation.

"The waterfall is our way down," Nikki says, her voice cracking from exertion. "We have to get to the beach."

I glance down below us at the tumbling water. There are various platforms of rock that we can climb down on, but it could be dangerous. The current isn't very strong, but the rocks will be slippery and loose. Either of us could end up sprawled on the beach with our limbs broken.

"We should see what we have first," I say, pointing to my backpack. "We might have something that will help us."

"Yeah," is all Nikki says, sitting down on the ground beside the water. As I sit next to her, she sets down her trident and takes off her own pack. She unzips it and peers inside. "Looks like we have a net," she says, pulling out the object. "We can use that to catch fish. And A sleeping bag, a flashlight, and some dried fruit. What about you?"

I open my bag. Inside is a small blanket, a packet of iodine, an empty water bottle, and a fire-starting kit. "We can use this to make the ocean water safe to drink," I say in reference to the iodine.

"No, no," Nikki says. "Iodine doesn't get rid of salt. But we can use it on this fresh water."

She takes the bottle and iodine from me and scoops up some water from the stream. She lets a few drops of iodine tincture fall into the liquid, then set it aside.

"We'll wait for a few minutes, then get going again. The iodine will take about half an hour to work."

I glance up at her. She's wearing the same unbothered, ferocious expression since the bloodbath. I imagine she wants the Capitol to still think of her as a fierce tribute with Career training, even though she isn't a Career anymore.

"The beach will be a primary spot for tributes to get water," Nikki says, peering into the bottle of water again. "But it's also at the edge of the arena. We should be able to stay out of sight."

I glance around. Most of the terrain right now seems incredibly open, especially here on this cliff. There isn't a lot of vegetation either, so I guess we'll have to rely on the ocean for food.

After waiting half an hour, Nikki and I take turns downing the water. It's delicious after running and sweating for so long. Nikki fills the bottle again and treats it with iodine so we'll have more for later. Then we begin our descent to the beach.

I insist on going first, just to see which rocks are stable. I'm heavier and therefore more likely to fall. But I discover that nearly all of them are completely flat and don't budge once. They were probably put here by the Gamemakers for this reason. I climb down easily and Nikki follows my lead.

Even though the climbing itself is easy, it takes a long time. We likely won't be able to make the trip everyday, or even one more time. We'll have to spend most of our time on this beach.

The sand slides underneath my feet, making it hard to walk straight. We both silently head towards the water, Nikki reaching it much faster than me. The water reaches my feet and I continue to wade into it, the salty spray hitting my face. I never thought I would experience something like this. Nikki is smiling at me, her mask broken for a moment. I can't help but notice that the color of her eyes matches the water perfectly.

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

The bloodbath didn't go as I'd hoped. Instead of making four kills, I'd only made two. An average number. Then my district partner died, the only person in this alliance I felt I could trust. Then I'd gotten stabbed by that little girl from Eight. Not to mention that only ten tributes died in the bloodbath overall, a pitiful number.

But the very worst of it is Tiger. He's been gloating about killing the highest combined training score all day. We had sat and watched the hovercraft take away the bloodbath bodies, listening to him boast about how he had chopped the Five boy's head clean off. I didn't dare mention that I got a look at the body before they took it, and the head was still attached.

Not that it mattered. Tiger's bloodbath performance all no doubt been the most impressive. An eight scorer and a five scorer would earn him attention for sure. Meanwhile, I had only killed the tiny boy from Three and the annoying princess from Eight. She had scored a seven, but she was a little girl that stood no match against me or anyone else. All she managed to do was puncture my shoulder before I sliced her up.

Speaking of, I wince in pain and roll my shoulder around. After getting tired of listening to Tiffany and Tiger talk hunting strategy, I proposed that we all go out alone to look for tributes. I could tell Tiffany didn't like the idea, but Tiger had stared at me, eyes glinting.

"Sure. Let's go alone and see who can kill the most tributes."

"I don't like it," Tiffany declared. "Willow isn't as experienced. And we need someone to guard the supplies."  
"You do it, then," I said, shoving her the sword she had set on the ground. I paid no attention to her offended expression and grabbed my own broadsword.

"Willow should go with you then," Tiffany said. "She shouldn't be on her own."

And that's how I ended up here with Willow, looking out over the rolling desert.

"We should go in for just a little while," Willow says nervously. "To see if anyone is there. They couldn't have made it far if they didn't have supplies."

It's true. We didn't bring our water with us so that no one could steal it in case we get ambushed, but we have plenty of it but at the Cornucopia that we drank before leaving. But tributes out here alone in the desert would easily get dehydrated, even in a matter of hours.

"We need to check around the perimeter of the desert, then get back to the Cornucopia before dark," I say. It's tradition that the Careers all band together in one giant hunting party on the first night of the Games. Even though nothing has been working out as planned, I feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of finally participating. Willow and tiffany aren't too bad, and Tiger isn't unpleasant to be around when he isn't feeling jealous of my brother. Maybe he'll put aside his grudge for one night.

"Sounds good," Willow agrees with a nod.

We carefully scour the first half-mile or so of the desert, moving west back towards the Cornucopia as we go. There's no telling how far the arena extends before the forcefield stops tributes from moving farther, but I suspect it can't be any farther than two miles. Any tributes hiding among the dunes will be easy to flush out, and surely won't stay here for long. There isn't any water as far as we can see, and the only animal we see is one snake for a split second. There are no plants, either. This will be a difficult place to survive.

The sand is hard to walk on, always making us slip and trip over ourselves. At first it's annoying, but after a while, we start to laugh and take turns seeing how far we can run without falling. By the time the sun has started to set, my throat is dry and my shoulder is throbbing. We need to get back to the Cornucopia so I can get some medicine.

 _Eryn Winters (15)- D12F_

I watch the Careers from a behind my trusty sand dune, barely able to hold my breath for fear. But it seems like most of my worries were pointless as they walk right past my dune, sliding over the sand. The girl from Seven laughs as she tumbles to the ground, sliding down a mound of sand onto the flat ground. I feel my eyes tear up as I watch her eyes scrunch together in glee. How can she be so carefree and cheerful after killing Triple A? He was just a child, younger than me, and he had family back home. Unlike her. At least she looks like she got a beating at the Cornucopia; her lips is swollen and one of her eyes is purple and nasty looking.

I try to control my rage and stay put until they pass. They don't seem too keen on checking for tributes, instead messing around and joking with each other. Maybe the Careers will die off early and leave me a good chance at surviving.

My empty bottle, spool of twine, and tarp aren't going to do much for me here. I can use the tarp to cover myself from the sun, but I don't have any food or water. Still, I'm terrified to get any closer to the mountains. The river flows out of the base of the eastern mountain and heads through the pass, and I haven't seen any other sources of water yet. I know lots of tributes will be crowding around the river for water, and it will be a easy hunting ground for the Careers. I need water, but I know drinking untreated water can be dangerous.

But my thirst overcomes all of these misgivings. If I take some water from the start of the river now, then I will have some to last the night. I pack up everything I have and head north.

I know the Careers probably won't come back this way, but I'm still cautious. I don't know who else could be lurking in the desert, just like I was. It takes me over an hour to get back to the river, at which point the sun is starting to set. I need to fill up my water bottle as fast as possible and find a safe spot to sleep.

The water gently bubbles up from the base of the mountain, burbling softly. It's just the gentle, soothing noise I need to calm myself. The stream is very narrow here, only a few feet wide and not deep at all. The pebbles on the shore slide under my feet as I bend down, almost faceplanting me into the water. I regain my balance and hold my bottle in the stream, letting it fill up completely before taking a large swig. It doesn't taste very good, but it's somehow pleasantly cold. I know I will likely get diarrhea or something worse from drinking this water, but that's problem for later. Right now, my first priority is survival no matter the cost.

I drink about half the bottle before filling it up again and vowing to conserve it until I can come back, probably late tomorrow. I don't know what I'm going to do for food yet, but I can survive the night without any, even if my stomach is growling.

Or is that something else growling? The sound continues on too long to my my own body, faint but clearly audible, seemingly coming from nowhere. I look behind me at the rolling dunes of sand that are now colored blue and pink by the setting sun, the sand glistening innocently. Maybe I'm imagining it. After all, it's been a stressful day, to say the least.

Then the sound increases in volume and sounds like it's coming closer. I still can't tell where it's coming from, but I quickly twist the cap on my water bottle and scurry away, running as fast and as quietly as I can until the noise fades. I keep going until the sun is completely down and I can't even see the ground beneath me.

I find my way to the base of one of the dunes and collapse, making sure my water is still secure. I know I should try to get some sleep, but I doubt I'll be able to manage it. But I can at least lay here and get some rest.

The stars are the same ones that I see in District Twelve, and it calms me. Back at home, my family is underneath those same stars, maybe even watching me right now...

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

After stopping to rest at the foot of the mountain, I start my ascent. It's not steep at all at the bottom, easy to climb up. Just as the incline starts to increase, I find what seem to be steps carved into the rock. The Gamemakers always give tributes a way to explore something interesting for the viewers.

The trek up the mountain is long, and I feel incredibly exposed. Anyone could see me hiking up the mountainside from the ground, at least that's the way it feels. The sparse shrubbery increases the farther up I go, eventually transitioning into trees and actual plants. I even see some mice and a few strange cat-like creatures that run away if I get too close. I can't tell if they're mutts or just a foreign species of animal, but they put me on high-alert regardless. I could catch one if I have the tools to do so.

Sometimes I have to cut through vines that block the path with my knife, and I trip over several times. After a particularly hard fall that scraped my knee bloody, I take some time to rest and realize what's behind me: the endless blue ocean that extends forever.

The stairs wind around the mountain, and I have no idea how long I've been jogging, but sweat is dripping down my back and the sun hurts my eyes. I finally find some shade under a short tree, glancing up at the rest of the mountain to see how far I have to go. It looks like I've already scaled most of it, with maybe a fourth left to go. I want to get to the top no matter how long it takes me; it's not likely some place a lot of tributes will be able to get to. I already feel lightheaded from my journey, wishing I had some water.

I open my pack hopefully, but there's no water to drink. Instead, I have a net, a baggie of dried jerky, a blanket, and a pair of night-vision goggles. It's not a bag haul, but there's nothing to do with water. The stream below the mountain is probably at least somewhat safe to drink, but it's a long trek back down there. Whatever. I'll be safe up here for tonight. The Careers will be more interested in picking off tributes in easily accessible locations.

I decide to not eat at all today, packing up my supplies and getting to my feet. I brush the dust off my clothes and squint into the distance. To the south, the yellow, glistening desert extends forever, and the blue ocean gently rolls to the north. I glance up at the path ahead of me. Once the sun starts to set, I'll find a place to hide and sleep.

I walk for maybe another hour before the stairs start to even out again, a welcome change for my burning thighs and back. In a matter of minutes, the steps have turned into a flat plateau. I'm not at the top of the mountain yet, and I'm not even sure what would be up there if I managed to climb all the way up, but this seems to be purposeful. The path becomes narrower and narrower until I'm walking on a too-thin piece of rock clinging to the mountainside. It's plenty wide for me to fit on, but the sight of the desert floor beneath me makes me nervous. I continue walking until the path opens up again and I come around a corner to see something I never expected: something man made.

The shack itself isn't very big, but I freeze in fear when I see it, unwilling to get any closer. I've watched enough Hunger Games to know that this is probably a trap of some sort. One of the walls is leaning to the side, giving it a very creepy feeling. The wooden roof is mostly open, rotten and eaten away by nature. I stand in place a little while longer before deciding to get closer.

I tiptoe to the shack, glancing around to make sure there aren't any mutts about to jump out at me. There are some grape vines near the cliff, looking like they once had been held up by some wooden poles that are now fallen and overgrown. The shack appears more menacing the closer I creep, but nothing happens. I find a doorway in the wall facing the desert, the door either missing or never having existed. Inside the shack is the ancient frame of a bed, withered away so much that one of the legs is turned to dust.

There is also the remnants of a chair and a simple dresser. I hold my breath as I enter, gripping the handle of my knife tightly. There isn't anything hiding in the corners of the room, fortunately. I sigh and set my pack on the ground, rubbing over my face with my hand. Even if the Gamemakers have something planned for me here, it's still safe from the Careers and other tributes. And the grapes outside looked ripe and juicy.

 _Amelia Waltraud (16)- D6F_

After looking at the contents of my bag, I have to decide where I'm going to go. The mountain above me looks incredibly intimidating and scary, so it's no question that I'll be staying at ground level. I decide to keep running along the river for as long as I can and then find a place to sleep for the night.

I run for a long time, and despite everything that's happened and where I am, I can't help but enjoy myself. I've missed my mornings running with Elanor. I picture her running alongside me as I go, laughing with her hair flowing behind her. She would love to see all of this. The mountains, the running water… the ocean!

I feel my jaw drop as the blue expanse comes into view. Now this is something I never thought I would see. And something that Caleb will never see. I feel tears rise in my eyes, but I shake them away. Caleb died for me, and the least I can do is honor his death. And our sister's.

As I near the edge of the cliff, I hear something to my left. I glance over and my heart nearly explodes out of my chest. Two people are sitting at the mouth of the river, on the other side. They're going through their backpacks, chatting with each other. I recognize the girl from Four and guy from Six. I must be quieter than I realize if they didn't hear me. I look around frantically, trying to figure out where I should go. To my right, there is an opening in the rock of the mountain. A cave!

I immediately sprint toward my savior cave. As soon as I'm inside, the temperature drops about ten degrees. I'm panting heavily, hiding behind the cave wall to watch my opponents. They still don't appear to hear or see me, drinking some water together, then resting a little while longer before standing and trying to climb down the waterfall. It's an insane idea, and one that I can't help but wish ends with their necks broken.

Once they're gone, I let out a long breath that I didn't realize I was holding. Behind me is nothing but a pitch black nothingness. The darkness makes shivers roll down my spine, but the thought of going back outside where the other tributes are makes me sweat nervously. I remember I have a flashlight and dig it out of my backpack, flicking it on and pointing it down the cave. The light bounces off the walls of the back wall of the cave. It's not very big, but it's better than nothing.

Then the light illuminates a hole in the wall. Another cave? I gather my courage to walk through it. It's even darker in here, but then to my right, I see sunlight! I hurry towards it and realize it's yet another cave, which opens up to the outside world again. This entrance faces the ocean directly, overlooking the breathtaking sight. I stand in the sun's rays as feel the sea spray on my face. The sounds of waves crashing and seagulls chirping drowns out every other noise, and I actually feel at peace.

I explore the cave a little bit more. This one is lit up with the sunlight, illuminating a strange oval-shaped hole full of water in the middle of the ground. There are some flat stones piled around it as if to accentuate it. It doesn't seem deep, but I'm afraid to step in it. I know the Gamemakers can hide horrors behind such seemingly innocent things. I steer clear and instead sit at the entrance of the cave with my body blocked by the rock, watching out for anyone or anything. But if I didn't know any better, I would think that the hole looked like a bathtub.

I watch the sun set over the sea, the beautiful colors reminding me of the the colors in Elanor's eyes. I determinedly only think about her and not about Caleb. Everytime I think of him, the only thing that comes to mind is the axe splintering into his neck, spraying me with blood. I look down at my clothes and try not to be filled with despair at the flecks of red. At least I still have a part of him here with me.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

I've been cooped up here all day guarding our supplies, and I'm practically jumping out of my skin to see some action. No cannons have fired while the others were gone, telling me their campaigns were fruitless. It's not unusual for the first day, but we need to make some more kills soon. With both Fours out of the alliance and Rufina dead, we have a lot to prove.

I hear footsteps to my right and I grip the sword handle at my hip, strapped to me with a scabbard I found among the supplies, running around the Cornucopia to see who it is. To my relief, it's just Tiger. His lumbering gait is recognizable anywhere.

"Not a great day, huh?" I ask critically.

"There's lots of places to hide," he growls.

I raise an eyebrow and look around. "It sure doesn't seem like it. No trees or anything."

"Then they've all climbed the mountains!" he says sharply. "Or they went down to the beach."

"Beach?" I ask, eyes widening. "There's a beach."

He nods. "That's where we should go tonight. A lot of tributes will be around there for water."

I wholeheartedly agree. It sounds like an amazing trip, and I can feel myself start to feel actually excited. This is what I've waited my entire life for.

Tiger and I wait at the mouth of the Cornucopia for Hadrian and Willow to come back. They're a little later than I expected, especially since they didn't make any kills. Even worse, they say they didn't see anyone. It looks like we'll be going with Tiger's plan of exploring the beach.

I try not to be too hard on Hadrian and Willow, though; I know they've been through a lot since the bloodbath. I can tell Hadrian's shoulder injury is worse than he's pretending, and Willow's face is quite beaten up from her district partner. The two of them apply some medicine from the Cornucopia, and then the four of us eat and hydrate in preparation for our hunt.

I can already see it now; the four of us on the beach in the dark, blood dripping from our weapons and wetting the sand, a fallen tribute sacrificed to honor Panem at our feet. I take a swig of water from my canteen and then strap it to my belt. This time, everyone should bring water and food with us. We don't know how long we will be away. Sometimes the first hunt last for days if we find a tribute's trail.

"Try to conserve the water," I hear Hadrian warn Willow as she pours some on her face. "We don't have an unlimited supply."

"He's right," I say, kneeling down to tie my boot tighter. "We have a lot, and supplies to make fresh drinking water, but we shouldn't waste what we do have."

"Alright, mom and dad," Willow mutters. "Sorry."

Hadrian rolls his eyes and reaches down for more cream. He gently applies some to his shoulder, then mutters something about going to take a quick nap. While everyone rests, I do some squats and push-ups. In this arena, I need to be prepared to climb, run, and crawl.

The sunset happens quicker than I remember it happening in the Capitol and District One. The Gamemakers are ready for us to start some action. I grin to myself and re-do the ponytail my stylist gave me. I use the reflective surface of the Cornucopia to check my makeup. It still looks intact despite the events of the day. Hopefully it will last me at least a few more days. I know that its disappearance is inevitable; every female victor has to show their dirty, bloody, primal side at some point.

"Are you guys ready to go?" I shout into the Cornucopia where Willow and Hadrian are resting. Tiger is sharpening his axe on a sharpening stone he found earlier. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he's ready for blood, just like me.

Hadrian clambers out of the Cornucopia, yawning. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's do this." His sword is strapped to his back.

Willow unsteadily follows him, her eyes heavy. "I think I should stay here," she says. "Someone has to stay guard."

"Not if you're going to fall asleep," Tiger patronizes. "Our stuff will be fine. We all need to go together. Get your knives"  
"I have them," she snaps. "Don't treat me like a child." She angrily straps her belt of knives around her waist.

"That's the spirit," I tell her. "Channel that energy into the hunt, alright? And over all, try to enjoy yourself!"

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

Even after the sun sets, t he moon and starlight provide enough light for us to see pretty well. We keep hiking up the mountain until we reach the peak. It's actually pretty flat; the mountain isn't that tall after all. All we can hope now is that the Careers don't come up here for a long time, instead choosing to hunt the tributes on flat ground. But they will for sure climb our mountain before the other one since ours is smaller. We'll have to keep moving to stay safe.

But our journey is over for the night. My arm is starting to hurt for real, and the amount of blood is starting to scare me, although I wouldn't say that to Tag. The stab wound doesn't seem very bad at first glance, but it's deep. By the time we stop for the night, hidden under some bushes, I'm feeling slightly faint. I settle down in the dust, Spool panting beside me. We're both sweating, but the temperature has already dropped several degrees since the sun disappeared. I glance at the knife that I'm still holding in my hand. It makes my stomach swoop and I feel even more sick.

"Here, Tag," I say, handing it to him. "Keep it close to you while you sleep, okay? I can just use my hands if I need to fight."

"Alright," Tag says confidently. I know he's trying to be strong for the cameras, but he's been anxiously looking at the sky every minute since the sun set. I think we're both worried about Sock. If her face shows up on the sky tonight, then that means she won't be meeting us no matter where we go. I can only hope that she's still alive and out there somewhere.

We sit in silence for several minutes, just soaking in everything that's happened. We don't have water or supplies, and I'm a little worried for Spool. He's small and going to need something to drink and eat soon enough.

Suddenly, there's a light tinkling sound above us. At first it makes me jump, but then i immediately recognize it.

"Seb!" Tag whispers excitedly. "Do you think that's for us?"

"Stay here," I warn. "I'll check."

I crawl out from the bush, wincing in pain. Just like we thought, there's a parachute gently floating down from the sky. I sigh in relief. The Capitol does love us after all.

The little silver box lands on the bush that Tag is still hidden under. I dig it out from the brambles and unscrew the lid. Inside is a strange smelling cream, some bandages, and a short note from Johanna- " _Apply three times a day and cover the entire area."_

I silently smile at the sky. I'm glad Johanna hasn't given up on me despite my alliance with two twelve-year olds. I did score a ten after all.

Suddenly there's another tinkling sound from above me. Almost unable to believe it, I look up. There's another parachute coming down for us.

"What is that?" Tag asks, crawling out from the bush. He looks at my package and then at the one that's still descending to us. " _Two_ gifts? What's going on?"

"We're popular," I say with a smile. This one drifts right down into my hands. "Want to open it?"

"Sure!" He takes it from me and eagerly unscrews it. "It's for me!" he says happily. "I can't believe it, look!"

He lifts up the canteen to show me. "It's water!"

"It looks like we're all set," I say, pleased. "But try to hold off, okay? We still don't have a lot."

"I know, I know." He looks at the silver parachute and box in his hands, and then mine. "We need to do something with these. If someone finds them, they'll know we've been here."

I blink in surprise. "You're right."

"We could throw it over the side," he says, taking my parachute and walking to the edge.

"Okay, but be careful," I warn. He gently tosses both packages over the side of the mountain. They tumble down the rock before eventually coming to a halt quite a ways down.

"Let me help with your medicine," Tag tells me.

"Okay."

Instead of hiding in the bushes, we feel bold enough to sit at the cliff and apply the cream to my arm. It hurts to the touch, but I grit my teeth until Tag wraps the bandage around it.

"I think it's good," he says.

Suddenly the anthem of Panem booms throughout the arena. My breath catches, watching the sky with anticipation.

The first face that appears is the girl from Two, which is surprising to say the least. Then the boy from Three, the guy from Five, the creepy girl from Six… and then Sock. My heart sinks to my pair from Nine, the boy from Ten, the Capitol girl from Eleven, and the boy from Twelve are the rest of the fallen.

After the faces disappear, the world becomes deadly quiet.

"She didn't listen to the plan," Tag says matter-of-factly. "She acted stupid."

"Yeah," is all I can say. The image of my mother screaming in pain flashes before my eyes, and I close them and shake my head a little. "Let's get some rest," I say with my eyes still closed.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! Sorry there's such a long wait in between updates. It's been more difficult than I anticipated to switch from the setting of the Capitol to the arena. I think the updates will increase in frequency as I get used to the new setting. Also, I hope I'm describing the arena in a way that makes sense. Give me some genuine feedback about that because I feel like it's weakness of mine.**

 **I know there wasn't a lot of action in this chapter, but we're just getting started! Who do you think has the best chances of survival? What do you think of the arena so far? I'll see you in the next chapter!**


	26. The First Night: The Hunt

_Tomas Fields (15)- D11M_

Drew and I are silent as the sun sets over the horizon, barely moving. I don't really mind the silent part, but moving has always been apart my day. Playing with my siblings when I was younger, working on the paper in tight deadlines, trying to gather enough food together for the day; I've always kept myself busy. But now that we're here in the arena, everything seems to have come to a stop. I feel trapped with nowhere to go, nothing to do; the cliff is too steep for Drew to climb, no matter what he says. We can't go back the way we came, and climbing the mountains would be even harder for him. There's nothing to do except stay here in our cover behind the boulders, and rest.

I glance at Drew in the fading rays of the sun. He's staring at the sky, his eyes unseeing. One is blue, like the color of the sky at noon, and the left one is green, the color of the sea below us. I've never seen the sea before, so the comparison is new to me. I analyze my reflection in the small pot next to me, designed to boil salt water. My own eyes are the same color, the sea-green that I didn't know were like the sea, my inheritance for my father.

Ever since my mother revealed my true parentage, I had hated my biological father, I never knew him, but I knew that he had led on my mother and convinced her to cheat on her husband, and eventually disappeared without a goodbye. I started to hate the way I looked, my green eyes and lighter skin and straw hair. It was all parts of him that were passed down to me, and I hated anything having to do with District Four.

But sitting here with Drew makes me wonder if I had been wrong. Maybe there were some good people in Four after all. Maybe looking like this isn't the worst thing in the world.

"Do you remember what I look like?" I ask suddenly, breaking our long silence.

Drew turns to look in my direction, though his eyes look past me. He thinks for a moment, then says, "Tall, skinny, dark-skinned. A typical Eleven boy."

I huff. "Not exactly. For District Eleven, I'm not dark-skinned at all."

"Oh," is all he says, turning away.

"I have green eyes and blonde hair," I continue despite his disinterest. This isn't so much for him as it is for the rest of Panem. "I didn't think about my appearance a lot, but my mother told me why a few years ago."

"And why is that?"

"Because my father was from Four."

That gets his attention. He turns to face me again, his eyes expressionless. "How?"

"He was a Peacekeeper." I draw circles in the sand with my fingertip, trying to seem unconcerned for the cameras. "I don't know who he is. My mother won't tell me anything about him, but I thought that if I got to know you, I could get a sense of what he was like."

Truthfully, I couldn't care less about the identity of my father, but I can't deny that I was drawn to Drew because he was from Four.

"I'm probably not anything like him," Drew says flatly. "Peacekeepers are of a different breed. They're trained to help people and I'm trained to kill."

I can't tell if he's lying for the cameras or not. Everyone in Eleven knows that Peacekeepers are about keeping peace like hunting hounds are about bringing their prey back alive to their master. But maybe things are different in Four.

"But you know what it is like there," I say. "He left to go back to Four before I was born. He must have loved it."

"Everyone loves where they grew up," Drew says instantly, but then he smells the air and sighs. "It's a lot like this place. The salt, the wind, the waves. And the beach, if we ever get to it."

"We'll get to it," I say. "And then we'll both be home, I guess."

The corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile. "Maybe. But I won't be able to see the water."

"You'll be able to see the light reflecting off of it," I insist. "Can you see anything right now?"

"Nothing," he says quietly. I feel so bad for him. If I don't win, I would want Drew to make it, even if it seems impossible. He deserves to have his sight fixed and go home and live in beautiful District Four for the rest of his days. I shiver from the chilly night air, and suddenly an idea pops into my head.

"Hold on," I mutter, rummaging through our bag of supplies for the right equipment. I'll give you something to see. We didn't spend all that time at the fire-making station for nothing."

 _Willow Whitebeam (17)- D7F_

My face is throbbing in pain. The kid from Nine that punched me was small and couldn't do much damage, but Seb really gave me a beating when we met in the bloodbath. It's a shame I didn't kill him, but at least I survived. I gently dab some medicine onto my swollen lip, then hesitantly scoop up some more for my eye. It's closing shut to the point that I can't see much, but I won't tell the others that. I don't want to be left behind for this important Career ritual, .nor do I want to miss opportunities to prove myself to the Capitol that I can kill, but I think I may have to sit this one out. I can feel exhaustion behind my eyelids and in my chest.

I smooth the cream over my purple eye. I hope my reflection in the Cornucopia's wall is distorting my face, and it's not actually that deformed. I need to look good for the cameras if I want sponsors. I'm not at all like Tiffany, who is perfect as always. Her hair still looks professionally curled and done up in her high ponytail. She's very attractive, admittedly, but it's annoying.

"Is everyone ready to go?" I hear her call out from outside the Cornucopia. I turn my flashlight to the entrance, illuminating her feminine figure. "It's time to get going."

"Coming," I say, as Hadrian grumbles on the ground beside me. He's been sleeping since we returned from our little expedition. He may think that he's doing a good job of hiding his pain, but he can't fool me. It shows in the way he clambers to his feet and the glazed look in his eye. Seb's little ally really got him good.

We trudge out of the golden horn, where the last remnants of the sun are dissipating over the horizon, clearly visible in between the two mountains that rise on either side of us, illuminating our path.

...

Despite my objections, everyone insists that I accompany them on the hunt. I'm not exactly disappointed, but I was looking forward to getting some sleep.

As we start our journey to the beach, I adjust the knives on my belt. One is already missing, accidentally given to Seb and his other little ally. The empty space bothers me. I hope we come across the two of them so I can get it back. Maybe missing a night of sleep won't be so terrible after all.

Our trek to the beach will take a couple hours, according to Tiger. I wonder if anyone will be there when we arrive. Finding water is a main priority for tributes, but surely they won't be stupid enough to do it right now, when they know we will be out looking for them. But Tiger says that they will think they are safer in the darkness, so our chances of finding someone are good.

The temperature dropped almost immediately after the sun went down, and now it's actually kind of chilly. My nose and ears are cold, but the rest of my body is warm from jogging. I can see my breath if I exhale loudly. Tiffany says that some tributes might be starting fires to keep warm, so we should keep our eyes peeled.

The moon lights up our path, but most of the scenery is dark and the mountains loom over us threateningly. As we approach the beach, the moonlight shining off the water is visible before the water itself. When we finally arrive at the cliff, the sea extends before us, colored dark and swirling around restlessly. It almost seems like the water's behavior is matching the atmosphere of the arena. The Capitol is longing for blood, writhing in their seats as they await the chase.

"How do we get down?" I ask.

"I found a place earlier, over here," Tiger says, waving us over to where the river flows over the cliff and down to the beach. "I saw evidence of someone sitting here, and footprints on the sand." He points at his feet, and then over the side of the cliff. "Someone was here, for sure. I didn't have time to look carefully, but they can't be far."

"What is that?" Hadrian asks suddenly. We all look to where he's pointing, to the mountain to our left. I squint as hard as I can and eventually make out a small orange flame crackling in the distance, flickering as if partly hidden behind something.

"Good eye, Hadrian," Tiffany says in approval. "Let's head over there."

"We were going down to the beach," Tiger says lowly, his face partly illuminated by the moonlight, eyes dark.

"We still will," Hadrian says, unsheathing his sword. He winces as it pulls on his shoulder injury. "But we need to check this out first. I call first kill."

"Not if I get there first," I say, raising an eyebrow. He huffs and starts a light pace to the fire, which I easily match. He's not going to kill anyone if he can't push through the pain.

 _Tesa Sherman (16)- D3F_

I continue to hide among the rocks until the faces of the fallen disappear from the sky. I know I will have the upper hand to everyone else in the dark.

After my close encounter with the Careers, I stayed where I was and tried to figure out what I should do. I know I don't stand a chance without any supplies. Once I get some water and food, I will be able to find a place to hide away from the action. Climb the mountain and then stay in one place, killing anyone that gets too close.

Once the sun starts to set, I realize it's happening quicker than it does in nature. The Gamemakers are eager for the show to begin. The Capitol must be frothing at the mouth for blood by now. There haven't been any cannons since the bloodbath, and I can only hope that several will disturb the quiet desert tonight.

Once the sun is set and the moon is the only light I have to go by, I start my trek back to the Cornucopia. It will be dangerous, but it's the only chance I have of survival. The Careers are only four now, so it's not likely they would leave someone behind to guard their supplies. And if they did, I will just hang around until the golden horn is unattended and then take what I need.

An hour or so after beginning my journey, I can start to see the glint of the gold in the distance. It seems close, but it will take another half hour or so before I reach it. Despite the cold weather, I'm still sweating as I approach the Cornucopia from behind. I stop and listen closely, but I hear no one. Maybe they really did leave it unprotected.

I start to sneak toward the horn, making sure my footsteps are silent on the sand. I creep around the edge of the Cornucopia, readying my fists for a fight, but nothing comes. I peek inside, overjoyed at what I see. The boxes are still in the same places, apparently not yet sorted, but they have clearly been rifled through. I quietly open a nearby case and do my best to see what's inside by using the starlight. I can barely make out a baggie of food or possibly matches, and snatch it up.

I open a different crate and gleefully pull out a flashlight, turning it on facing the ground. The light seems unnatural in this deep darkness, and I know it will attract someone to me if I use it for too long. The baggie I took does have some dried meat in it, and I look for more among the boxes. I can't find any drinking water, so the Careers must either have all of it with them or have hidden it somewhere. I decide not to worry about it and find some iodine instead. I find some after a few minutes of searching, along with a small curved knife. It won't be too useful for throwing due to its shape, but it will have to do. I need to leave before anyone notices my flashlight.

I also take a sleeping bag I found stuffed in a crate, and a bag of oranges. I stuff all of my new acquisitions into a large bag and swing it over my shoulder, making sure to smirk for the cameras before flicking my flashlight off. Now all I can hope is that the Careers don't notice any of their things are missing.

Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M

My heart is pounding in my chest as we jog toward the source of the light, but not in excitement or fear. In anger. I told everyone that heading down to the beach is our best bet, so what happens? Hadrian distracts everyone with another lead.

I try to calm myself as we silently approach our prey. Kills are kills, no matter where we make them. What's going to matter is who makes them, and how.

The other tribute, whoever they are is hidden behind a cluster of boulders at the base of the mountain. It was foolish to light a fire, no matter how cold it is. In the Hunger Games, foolishness leads to death.

Hadrian and Willow reach the boulders first, apparently in some sort of race against each other. Willow draws a knife from her belt as she slows down, poised behind a boulder as she waits for the rest of us to catch up.

"You're not carrying a heavy sword," Hadrian is grumbling at her when Tiffany and I get closer. "That's why you won."

"Whatever," Willow says, bouncing on her heels, eyes flickering with barely concealed excitement. "Let's do this."

"We will do this," Tiffany says firmly. "You need to stay back."

Willow rolls her eyes, but doesn't complain. After all, we don't know who is behind those rocks. Our voices might have alerted them to our presence already, but it seems that they aren't moving. Perhaps they're asleep.

Hadrian holds up three fingers to Tiffany and I. He starts counting down, and when the last finger folds into his hand, the three of us descend on our opponents with fury.

Hadrian roars as he swings his sword towards the young boy sitting beside the fire, but his skinny frame ducks out of the way just in time. "Drew!" he screams.

I whip my head around to see Drew from Four sitting there, frozen against the rock. As the boy from Eleven scrambles away, I bring my axe over my head and swing it at Drew's chest. The blade buries itself deep into his body, and he immediately screams and chokes for air.

"Damnit, I knew I should have brought a bow and arrow," Tiffany says under her breath beside me. I look up from my victim and realize Hadrian is gone, chasing after the boy.

"I can do it. Hold on."

I reach for my axe handle, ignoring Drew as he gurgles for air. "Tomas?" he gasps out as I rip the axe from his chest. He slumps over himself, his blood staining the ground dark red. The thick liquid drips from my axe blade as well. I leave the cluster of boulders and try to make out Tomas and Hadrian in the dark. They're far away, but I can see their retreating figures. They're too far away to throw at, but I might as well try. I start on a sprint towards them, lifting my axe above my head. I surpass Hadrian easily with his shoulder injury, and throw my axe with all of my might. It misses my several feet.

"Let's go!" I wave the others forward, continuing on his trail. I retrieve my axe when I pass, squinting in the dark to see his figure. The little bugger won't be getting away from us tonight. Not while I just made a kill, the thrill of the hunt surging through my veins. Past victors talk about bloodlust before, but I didn't know it would be so strong, so potent, almost enough to make me scream into the night with desire. It's time for more blood.

 _Amelia Waltraud (16)- D5F_

The night is quite peaceful. The sound of the waves against the beach is comforting. Directly below me, there are strange curved boulders that jut out of the water at strange angles. They are both fascinating and worrying; I know something like that probably doesn't exist in nature, and that they were created by the Gamemakers for whatever reason. Still, they are fun to watch as the waves crash against them, sending salty spray into the air.

I sleep with my back against the wall of the cave, facing the entrance so that I can see out if I wanted, but no one is likely to see me in the dark. The moonlight shines on everything outside, but I still feel uneasy sitting here in the dark, knowing there is a long system of caves underneath these mountains that can hide any number of things. I resist the urge to light a fire with my kit, instead toughing it out. I eventually fall asleep, Caleb's dying, smiling face swimming at the forefront of my mind.

Then in what feels like seconds, I'm jolted back to consciousness. At first I don't know why, but then i hear the footsteps racing toward sme, echoing down the caves.

I look around frantically for someplace to go, but I can hardly see anything. The footsteps are coming faster, nearer. My eyes land on the divot in the ground at the center of the cave, the hole of dark water. The footsteps are getting closer. I don't have a choice.

I grab my bag of supplies and hurry over to the pit, submerging myself and my supplies completely. The water is extremely cold, but I take a deep breath and hold my head under the water. I can feel the bottom of the pit underneath my toes, not as deep as I expected it to be. From underneath the water, I see a shadowy figure emerge from the other cave and through this one, disappearing into figure appears as well, running after the other figure. I wait for a little while after they disappear, until I feel like I'm going to suffocate myself.

I poke my head up from the water and gasp for air, dragging my supplies up with me. I clamber out of the pit just as someone else sprints into the cave. I gasp with surprise, looking up at the huge man above me. It's the guy from Two, the one that can chop a dummy in half in one swing of a sword.

"Willow? Tiffany?" he asks, his eyes locked onto mine. He grips his sword in his hand, starting to stalk toward me. "Get over here!"

I turn around as fast as I can, heading toward the exit of the cave instead of disappearing into one with the other tributes. The ledge outside the cave is small and precarious, but I'm thin enough to speed down the cliff, running as fast as I can. The ledge gets skinnier and skinnier the farther I go, the wind off the sea nearly knocking me over as I edge along.

I look behind me and see the Career is struggling along the ledge, roaring furiously at me. He's much bigger than I am, but I know he'll find a way to get to me eventually. I look up the mountain above me and take a deep breath. Elanor and I became quite fit after running around the district everyday, and I practiced the obstacle course in training a few times. I can do this.

I find a good handhold, reaching up to grab it while finding a place to put my foot. I try not to think about how high up I am as I climb slowly up the mountain, out of reach of my pursuer. My heart races in my chest as he shouts for his companions beneath me. I have to keep going. My body runs on autopilot as I continue to climb, gasping for air as I pull myself up. The chilly air and breeze makes me shiver, all of my clothes soaking wet and hanging heavily on my body.

I spot a place at the above me that I can stop and rest, a flat place that I can fit on. I pull myself up higher, about to reach it, when my wet hand slips against the rock and I start to fall, crying out loudly as I start to fall. My fingers scrape desperately against the rock, finally finding a place to grab, steadying myself with a shaky breath. I pull myself up to the ledge and collapse.

After a few moments of gasping for air, I peek over the edge. My stomach swoops unpleasantly at the drop below me, and even more at the look on the boy from Two's face as he glares up at me, barely illuminated in the moonlight. Two girls stand at the entrance to the cave, watching me with disappointment.

"I lost the Eleven kid," another guy says as he appears from the cave. I can't see what he does next, but I hear him say, "But it looks like we have someone here, don't we?"

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (18)- D4F_

Jason and I had wander along the beach for a little while before finding this place. The large rocks and jut out from the water provide a nice cover, albeit a wet one. I can tell Jason isn't used to being in water from his furrowed brows as we huddle on the curved side of one of the rocks. The water crashes against the rock every now and then, sending a spray of water onto us, but it isn't too bad. In fact, the salty spray is somewhat welcome after being away from the ocean for so long .The Capitol might have the finest luxuries in the world, but we in Four have nature's most beautiful luxury: the beach.

There is hardly any space on our rock, so Jason and I are huddled close together, wrapping our jackets around us tightly. I know we won't get much sleep tonight, but I'm still hoping for a few hours of shut-eye. Jason told me he would keep watch, so I slipped into the sleeping bag and closed my eyes, trying to get some rest even if I can't fall asleep. Every now and then, I peek at him through my eyelashes, just to make sure he's alright. His bright blue eyes never close once, apparently too worked up to sleep, watching the sea attentively. He winces every time he moves his right arm, but the wound isn't bleeding anymore.

I yawn and sit up, pretending like I had been asleep. I rub my eyes and ask, "Are you ready to switch?"  
"I'm fine keeping watch," he says in his Peacekeeper voice. I've come to realize that when he does that, it means he's deadly serious.

"You should get some rest, though," I say, reaching over to grab my trident. It's been cleaned in the salt water, now back to a shiny silver instead of glistening crimson. "Don't worry, I was trained just like you were. I can handle danger."

"Not saying you couldn't," he grumbles, but he reluctantly takes the sleeping bag from me, leans back, and closes his eyes. I watch his face for a few moments before I realize what I'm doing and turn away. I don't have the luxury of doing this right now. Jason will die eventually. He has to so that I can live. And I know it will probably happen soon. He's a good fighter and survivor, but he doesn't have what it takes to kill.

The beach is like a dark abyss at night, but as the sun rises, so does the water. It's the most gorgeous sight on the planet, I'm sure. And I couldn't have asked for a better arena. I more than anyone am suited for these Hunger Games. I breathe in the morning air, smelling salt and fish and sun, all of it reminding me of home.

My stomach is starting to grumble by the time the sun is nearly positioned above us, but I ignore it. I've gone through fasts to prepare for this, even more than recommended by the Academy. My parents forced me to go for weeks without food and days without water while still performing my training. It wasn't pleasant, but I understood why. That experience will be useful now. I glance over at Jason, who has actually fallen asleep despite his initial objections. His face is slack and his arms stretch in odd angles around him. One of them twitches into my lap. He won't be used to living without food. District Six is poor, but Peacekeepers fare well. I reach over to rummage through my backpack, finding the dried fruit. He can eat some for breakfast while I try to catch fish with our net.

"I know she's an easy catch, but we shouldn't have to wait for her for days," a female voice says not far away. I suck in a breath and quickly lean back so the rock is hiding me. A salty spray of ocean water hits my face, drowning out another sentence before the female voice says again, "...while we could be out finding other tributes."

"That's what we're doing," another voice replies, sounding somewhat annoyed. I recognize that voice. That's Tiger from One. The sight of his smug, cruel face in my mind makes me grip my trident tighter.

"Hadrian will get her eventually. In the meantime, we'll make as many kills as we can."

The voices are getting closer. Surely they will check around each of the rock formations, inevitably finding us here. It won't be an easy battle, but we will win. Jason and I have the upper ground. I glance over at his peaceful face. He make make a noise if I wake him up now. I can hear footsteps getting closer to us in the wet sand, followed by sloshing water.

I grip my trident tightly, ready for whatever comes. I peek from behind the curve of the rock, adrenaline pumping faster when I see Tiger and the Seven girl moving toward us. They didn't see me yet, so I duck back in my hiding place and prepare to strike.

"Who I really want to find is my district partner," the girl says. "Seb, you remember him."

"I do," Tiger says gravely. "And I'm looking for Nikki, the girl from Four. They both scored tens after all. And besides, I'd like to take out one district in one night."

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Drew made it out of the bloodbath, but did Tiger just kill him? I feel my blood start to pulse angrily. Drew was an insatiable Career like the rest of them, but he was kind and loyal. And Tiger killed him when he couldn't defend himself.

I jump out from behind the rock and immediately throw my trident down at the couple beneath us. It misses by a hair, making me scream in rage.

"Get her, Willow!" Tiger yells, immediately trying to climb the rock. The girl takes a knife from her belt and throws it up at me. I easily duck out of the way, reaching for Jason's sword.

"What are you doing?" A voice stops me. He's watching me with wide blue eyes.

"Do you want to live or not?" I snarl, gripping the handle and swinging it around just in time to meet Tiger's axe. The blades ring out loudly. I parry the weapon and manage to swing the sword loose, bringing it towards him again in a rage. I hear commotion beside us, but I don't have time to see what Jason is doing. Tiger lurches towards me with his axe, but I block him with another clash of metal and he stumbles away. Just as I steady myself again, an uncharacteristically large wave crashes against the rock, the water enveloping me and sweeping us down to the beach. I feel the squishy sand under my hands, coughing for a few seconds before reaching for the sword.

My fingers feel its smooth handle and curl around it, but then a foot steps on my hand.

"Day hi to Drew for me," the girl from Seven laughs as she raises Tiger's axe above me, already dripping red with blood and water. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, Jason's solemn face appearing behind my eyelids.

There is a crunching sound above me and I open my eyes immediately. The girl drops beside me, her back spearing through with the point of my trident. She gasps for air, fingers digging into the wet sand. I grab Jason's sword and stand.

I pull the trident from her body, turning to frown at Jason. His black hair falls in ribbons around his face. "Where's Tiger?"

"So much for a thank you," he says before grabbing my arm and pulling me with him. I notice he's carrying both backpacks and the sleeping bag. I hear Tiger roar in rage behind us, and glance back to see that he's just now standing, his clothes and body soaked in water.

I hand Jason his sword as we run as fast as our legs can take us. He's covered in sand as well, and blood. Maybe I was wrong about him after all.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This one is a little different than the others. Not all of the tributes got a perspective or were mentioned, and some of the perspectives aren't the same length. I think the rest of the chapters will be like this as well, to better explain what's happening in the Games. If a tribute wasn't in the spotlight this chapter, they will next chapter.**

 **We also lost Drew and Willow in this chapter.**

 **14th: _Andrew "Drew" de Luce (18)- D4M_ \- killed by Tiger. Created by TheAmazingJAJ. Drew has quickly become one of my favorite characters after I started writing him. He had one of the most unique arcs of all the tributes, and he was kind and sweet. His family will mourn him and so will Tomas.**

 **13th: _Willow Whitebeam (17)- D7F_ \- killed by Jason. Created by iridescenteverdeen. Willow was one of the characters I enjoyed writing the most. She was such a fun, reckless, fearless girl. She was tough and wanted nothing more than to return to her life in Seven. Her best friend Jupiter will miss her dearly, and I'll definitely miss writing about her.**

 **What do you think of the Careers' hunt?**

 **I know these updates have been coming slowly, but I'm trying to write faster. Please stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	27. The Second Day: Acclimation

_Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

The rays of sunlight that filter through the roof of the shack is what wake me up in the morning. For a moment, I could be back in Ten at my house. My father will come and wake me up soon to feed the horses. Amber will be neighing and whinnying for food as usual, loud enough to hear from inside.

Except there are no sounds of hungry neighing, or my grandfather whistling a tune in the kitchen. Instead, there is the sounds of sea birds singing and the wind whistling into the shack.

I throw the blanket off of my body, stretching up and yawning. I never thought I would have an actual bed in the Hunger Games. I must the luckiest tribute in the arena to have my own mattress, even if it does smell like dirty laundry that's been left out in the sun for ten years.

The roof of the shack is hardly enough to shelter me from the elements, but it filters out the sun to give me a break from the heat. It's actually not that bad in the shade. I stand up, grabbing my backpack just in case, and peeking out from the doorway. There's nothing there, just like last night, except for the grape vines that have overtaken the rocks. I feared that they would be poisonous, but they seemed pretty normal, so I ate a few to soothe my stomach last night. And apparently, I've survived.

I gently tiptoe over to the vines and pop a few more grapes into my mouth. They're small and purple, wild grapes rather than cultured ones. We were taught how to recognize berries that are safe to eat, but not actual fruits. I thought I saw apple trees while making my trek up here, but I can't be sure.

Over the edge of the cliff, the desert would be beautiful if it didn't mean absolute death. The yellow and orange sand looks like a painting, created with brushstrokes over a canvas. I wonder if anyone can see me from the ground. Or if would be able to see anyone if they were there. I think so. I'm not so high enough up that they would be too far away to see. But I don't see anyone right now. Maybe no one has had the guts to travel too far into the desert. The river and ocean seems like a much better bet for survival. Speaking of which…

I know I'll need water if I want to stand a chance. But with so many tributes out and about, it would be unwise to venture away from my safe place. The river will still be there when I need it.

I eat a few more grapes and head back inside my shack for refuge. I have my knife. If anyone finds this place, I will be able to fend them off.

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

I think I must have imagined the two cannon shots that went off in the middle of the night, with about an hour or so in between them. I didn't get much sleep last night, but maybe it was just a nightmare. Seb didn't acknowledge them when they happened, but maybe he was just a heavy sleeper. Or maybe last night was really just a fever dream like it seemed.

Seb woke me up just as the sun was rising, citing his inner schedule as the reason. "Us lumberjacks are used to getting up at first light," he had said.

"Well, there aren't any trees to chop," I said tiredly, rubbing my eyes. I'm sure my hair is all askew, purple fringe all mixed up with my natural black hair. My mother would be nagging at me by now to fix it. I purposely don't, instead blowing air out of my mouth until it moves out of my face.

"No, but we have work to do. We should get started before it gets really hot."

I grumble, but do as he says. I almost turn to wake up Sock before I remember that she's dead. I go quiet after that.

I don't want the Capitol to think that I'm weak. As a twelve year old, I need to take a page out of Sock's book and show my tough side. She would want me to win, I know it. It's the best way to honor her memory.

Seb sits under the shade of the bushes as he applies the medicine to his wound. It's already looking better, even after just one night. The skin is pink and raw-looking, but the cut has drawn together and isn't bleeding anymore. It will leave a nasty scar, but it won't get infected.

"What are we going to do today?" I ask, taking a swig of water. "Climb farther up?"

"We have to keep moving," he says, sweat already dripping from his face in the morning heat. "Staying in one spot makes it easier for others to find us."

"I should have gotten a crossbow," I say wistfully. "Then we could pick people off from up here."

"I don't need any weapons," Seb says darkly, leaving his hand out for the water. I hand it to him and he takes a drink, wiping his mouth afterward. "My hands are enough. Now let's go."

Regardless of his words, I keep my hand around the knife handle in my jacket pocket. Someone could jump out at us unexpectedly, and despite Seb's ten in training, his hands aren't as sharp as a sword's blade.

The air is hot and heavy, even wet. It sticks to my skin and weighs down on us. At least our clothes are made of lightweight, breathable material. If there's anyone I don't hate in the Capitol, it's the stylists.

"Don't drink too much water," Seb says sharply as I take another swig. "It's humid, so we won't get dehydrated too easy. "We need to ration it."

"Okay, sorry," I say, rolling my eyes. I wish again that Sock was here. I can imagine her eyes scanning the horizon, scolding me for drinking too much water, some giant weapon that's half the size of her body swung over her back. I try to take a page out of her book and stay extra vigilant. I owe it to her, and to Tag.

"Tag!"

I snap my head up. "Sorry," I mumble, picking up the pace. All I have to do is imagine going back home to Tag and the other Sock Knights, seeing the looks on their faces when I pull off the biggest heist in the history of District Eight.

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

The sun is blinding when it reflects off the sea. After hearing another cannon go off in the middle of the night, Tiffany and I have been waiting for some good news. Tiger and Willow must have found another tribute on the beach, just like Tiger suspected they would. I try to be happy that there is one less tribute to worry about, but the idea of Tiger getting that kill makes my hair bristle. He already took first kill from me even after I called it, planting his axe right in Drew's chest. Then this goddamn District Six girl escaped up the mountain, and he goes off to make another kill.

I raise a hand up to block out the sun as I glance up. The girl is still huddled in her hiding place on the rock, only her feet barely visible. I would be surprised if she was able to sleep, but she hasn't moved in a couple hours, so maybe she has. I gently touch the rock of the mountain. Some of the dust crumble away and into my hand. I wonder for the thousandth time tonight would would happen if I tried to climb the mountain with my shoulder like it is. I try to heft myself up and put some weight on my arm. It feels a little better than last night. I guess the Capitol medicine is finally starting to work.

Tiffany is snoozing lightly beside me, her face stern and arms crossed defensively even with her eyes closed. Her hair still falls in perfect ringlets in her ponytail. She's the one that convinced me to wait until morning to try and climb after our prey.

"It's too dark," she had said in that annoying, high-pitched voice. She's cute and smart and a hard worker, but she isn't what the Capitol wants from a victor. They need someone strong, bold, and bloodthirsty. I won't wait to take what I want. That girls' life belongs to Panem, and I will be the one to deliver it to them.

I grip the rock more tightly, heaving my weight up onto the rock. I huff out a breath of exertion as my feet find a safe place to rest, my eyes scanning for a new handhold. I need to do this as quietly as possible as not to awaken my prey. If she really is sleeping, then she will never wake up again.

My ascent is long and difficult. The girl climbed up when she was high on adrenaline and fear, and her body is much smaller and lighter than mine. I grunt as I stretch as far as I can for another handhold. I'm almost there. I can hear birds chirping by the beach beneath me, some of them flying close to the mountain. I fill myself with resolve as I pull myself up. I breath as quietly as I can, watching as the ledge gets closer and closer. The girl's feet don't move at all as I approach. I use one hand to carefully feel over the ledge, digging my fingernails into the dirt to pull myself up.

I peek over the rock, pleased to see that the girl is laying on her back, but then I see that her eyes are open. I quickly duck back down, but she doesn't move at all. Is it possible that she's already dead? What if she was the cannon I heard earlier, and not a victim of Tiger and Willow's?

I poke my head up again, this time pulling myself on the ledge. I realize she's not dead; her chest is moving in time with her breath. Maybe she's one of those people who can sleep with their eyes open.

I slowly reach for my sword, a grin already stretching over my face. Maybe I'll chop off her head and see how far I can throw it over the edge.

Then as my finger start to wrap around the handle, she suddenly sits up, immediately looking at me, her eyes wide and terrified.

"Leave me alone!" she screams, pushing me before I can react. The clear blue sky appears above me, followed by the distinct sensation of falling forever, something I've experienced only in dreams. Then my back hits the ground and the breath is knocked out of me, searing pain erupting from my shoulder.  
"Hadrian!" I hear Tiffany's voice, and then the world goes black.

 _Jason Sparks (18)- D6M_

It wasn't exactly difficult to lose Tiger after leaving the beach. We climbed as fast as we could back up the side of the cliff, without realizing we're heading right back to the Cornucopia before changing course to head to the western mountain. If we run into anyone else, I'm sure Nikki will be able to take them out without a problem. As for Tiger, it will be impossible for him to find us in the dark. At least, that's what I tell myself.

I look down at my hand as we run along, huffing from exertion. The Seven girl's blood is still dripping off of it, though it's very watery from the ocean water. I try to calm the rolling of my stomach, chalking it up to lack of sleep and food. The girl had it coming, siding with the Careers. I don't pity her, I really don't. But knowing I have her literal blood on my hands is harder to deal with than I imagined.

There's a cluster of boulders at the base of the mountain that we head towards without having to speak. I like that we're on the same wavelength about everything… or maybe not. She didn't wake me up when she saw the Careers coming, and attacked them without consulting me. Doesn't she trust me?

Nikki throws her long brown braid behind her shoulder and plops onto the ground. "Get over here," she hisses, motioning towards me. I get to my knees and join her behind a boulder, sighing and wiping sweat from my forehead.

"We should be safe here," she says quietly, setting down her trident. "I don't think he saw which direction we went in."

"Me neither," I say, squeezing water out of my sleeve. "But should we stop? The morning is the coolest part of the day."

"The morning is over," she says dismissively. "Noon will be here soon, and so will the heat. It's better to rest now and then travel at night. We need to get back down to the beach so we can catch fish."

"Well, I had to ditch the sleeping bag," I say unhappily. "And my blanket is all wet."

"Sorry," she says, apparently unconcerned. "Want some water?"

I take the bottle from her without a word, gulping down a large swallow. "I wouldn't mind some of the food, either," I say, wiping my mouth.

"I lost it," Nikki says, still staring behind the rock for our assailant.

"What?"

"I had to leave my bag behind. It was still on the rock."

I growl under my breath. "You lost everything that you had?"

She turns to look at me, her eyes sharp but confused. "That wave knocked me off the rock. If you want to blame someone, blame the Gamemakers."

"Well, you didn't have to start that fight anyway."

"They were going to find us," she snaps. "And we would have killed them both if the ocean hadn't have interfered."

"There's no way of knowing that," I say angrily. "And now we've lost all of that stuff. The food, the sleeping bag, the flashlight, _and_ the net to catch fish! How are we going to catch anything tonight if we don't have any supplies?"

"I'm from District Four, jackass," Nikki snarls. "Do you think I can't catch anything with my trident?"

I huff, turning away and leaning back against the rock. Nikki was right, it is starting to heat up. The sun is beating down on us mercilessly, and I have to resist the urge to take another drink of water, my stomach grumbling. We sit there in silence for several minutes, the heat almost unbearable. Perhaps it's because I'm upset with nothing to distract me, but my arm is throbbing with pain again. It's been slowly leaking blood ever since the bloodbath, and I'm afraid it might become infected if I don't do something about it.

Just now, I hear a light tinkling sound overhead. I glance up, blocking out the bright sunlight with my hand. A small parachute is descending from the sky, making right for us.

"A gift," Nikki says, sounding actually surprised.

"You scored a ten," I say bitterly. "Did you think we weren't going to get sponsors?"

"I thought everyone would be angry with me for leaving the Career alliance," she says, standing up. "I'll get it; stay where you are."

I huff, but don't try and stand. She must have noticed that I was in pain. _She's just trying to make up for losing all of our food_.

The parachute sails a few feet away from our little hideout, but Nikki is there to intercept it. She brings it back quickly, glancing around suspiciously for onlookers. Most of the arena is open and barren, not a good thing for non-Careers.

"It's for you," she says flatly, handing me the silver container. I see that the message is indeed addressed to me. It only says to, _apply three times a day_. It looks like my mentors did finally get their heads out of their asses after Attie died. Maybe they realized they may have an actual chance of bringing home a victor this year. I unscrew the lid and scoop some of the sticky substance up with my finger.

"I'll do it," I hear Nikki say. She scoots closer to me and takes the package from me again. I close my eyes as her fingers gently apply the medicine to my arm. It hurts, but I don't let it show for the cameras. Someone must have been impressed that I speared that girl on the beach. Showing my strong side is going to help me win this.

 _Eryn Winters (15)- D12F_

My first night in the arena wasn't exactly restful. I lay underneath my tarp in the freezing cold for hours, unable to sleep and listening only to the strange noises of the desert. I thought for all its emptiness and stillness that it would be completely silent, but instead I listen to what sounded like periodic screaming for a long time. I tried to convince myself it was just an animal, but then I heard the two cannon shots in the middle of the night, making me curl farther into myself. If the Careers are here in the desert with me, my only chance is to be as quiet and small as possible.

Luckily, no one came and tried to kill me in the night. I'm not sure if I drifted in and out of sleep or not, but I get up the next morning feeling just as exhausted as the night before. I pack my tarp and take a drink of water as I ready myself for the day. I don't feel safe here, but I don't know where else to go. Maybe I should try and stay closer to the mouth of the river, so that I won't run out of water. But it seems risky, considering other tributes are likely to have the same idea, so I hold off. I have enough for now, so I'll decide what to do when I run out, which is probably tomorrow.

I can already feel the effects of the unclean water on my stomach, but I ignore it as I pack up for the day. I need to keep moving to avoid the Careers, even if I'm not sure where I'm going. I decide to go east, away from the Cornucopia and towards the mouth of the stream. Even if I don't get any water today, at least I will be close.

I take my time moving along the desert, especially as the sun really starts to beat down on me. I have all day to reach my next destination, and I don't want to tire out too quickly. I stop to rest and drink some water at about noon, wiping the sweat from my face. I probably look a mess, hair strewn all over the place and clothes drenched in sweat. I can tell my water is failing me already; I feel dehydrated and weak despite having drank nearly half a bottle. I know the reason; the sun is too hot for one bottle of water to keep me hydrated. If anything, I'll need many, many refills. But the idea of returning to the stream terrifies me after what I heard last night, so I decide to tough it out. I can make it through one dehydrated day.

As I stand up and prepare to start moving again when I hear the sound. It's that screaming sound, like a person in pain mixed with a terrified animal. As I listen, I hear another voice join in, and then another.

I blindly start running in the opposite direction of the noises, terror pumping through every blood vessel. Whatever that is, I don't want any part of it. Sand flies up behind my feet, and I stumble several times as I make my way over dune after golden dune. The sounds start to get closer and increase in volume, but the stream is finally within view. I run as fast as my legs will take me, sprinting across the water and standing on the opposite bank, panting. On the other side, I think I catch a glimpse of something moving behind one of the dunes. It's big and darkly colored, but I can't make out what it is. It growls at me briefly before disappearing.

I let out a deep breath and reach into the water to splash some on my face. So much for that plan. But at least I know the desert isn't safe. I'll need a new place to stay for the night. But first, I need to get some rest, and maybe try to fix my image a little. I can't be covered in dirt for the Capitol to see.

 _Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F_

After making myself a nice breakfast of oranges and clean water, I actually feel refreshed. I could be on a luxurious Capitol vacation. Or perhaps I'm a runaway that's escaped Panem, and is living on the expensive foods that I stole. Now that's a life.

I like my little cluster of boulders, but I know it's only a matter of time until the Careers start looking this way again. Two of them almost found me before, but luckily they didn't seem very interested in hunting as looking cool for the cameras. I can't count on luck a second time.

Despite knowing this, I stay in my safe place for most of the day. I have plenty of food and water, and even a sleeping bag for when the nights' cool air comes. The only thing wrong with this picture are the sun's painful, merciless rays. That and the other ten tributes in the arena that want to kill me.

But once the afternoon has passed and the hot sun is only a few hours away from setting, I finally decide it's time to leave. As I pack up my supplies, I think about my options. The mountain seems like a safe place from Careers, but there isn't a way up it from where I am. If anyone has climbed it, they must either be an expert climber or there is a trail somewhere that I don't care to find. My other options are to go past the mountain and see what's beyond it, or into the desert. To avoid getting any closer to the Cornucopia, I choose the desert. If anything, just to see how far the river goes.

I begin my trek along the water, stopping to get some more and dropping some iodine in it. I'm probably the most hydrated of the tributes here, aside from the Careers.

I've gone not a half-mile when the river comes to an end. Apparently the water bubbles out of the mountain itself, a cold spring likely created by the Gamemakers. I stop to plan a new course of action when I notice some movement in the water.

My eyes widen when I realize it's another girl, bathing in the river. She's still wearing her clothes, but her jacket is laid to dry on a rock beside the shore. Next to it is a small backpack, filled with hidden goodies. I smirk to myself. It's clear the girl hasn't seen me. She dunks her head underwater again, and I start to dart forward, but then stop myself, getting low to the ground instead. I glance down at the knife in my hand. Maybe I can prove to the Capitol that I'm not just a thief, but also a worthy victor.

I grip my knife handle tightly and start slinking to the shore. The girl pops her head above the water again, still not noticing me. She pushes her wet blonde hair from her face, eyes closed, and I take my shot.

The knife flies out of my hand and into her right shoulder, barely missing her neck. I curse myself as she screams in pain and immediately takes the knife from the wound, panicked eyes meeting mine.

Without thinking, I instantly wade into the water. She's weakened, and I can still take her out if I really try.

She scrambles out of the water on the opposite shore and begins to run along it, making me sigh. I slowly wade back to my side of the water, watching as she disappears behind the boulders that line that mountain. At least I have her supplies, but now I don't have a weapon. Regardless, I can only hope that her injury will cause enough blood loss to take her out. For the time being, I have a new place to stay.

 _Tomas Fields (15)- D11M_

I wait in the dark until I just can't any longer. The cave passageways underneath the mountains are confusing and extremely dark, except for every now and then when one of them opens to the outside world. But most of them open up to nothing but the cliff over the sea. Unless I'm going to jump off- which I did contemplate a couple of times- I have to go back the way I came.

The push comes when I'm sitting in one of the open caves, watching the sun go down. I know the faces of those that were killed today will be showing up in a few minutes, which will include Drew's. I try to hold back tears for the thousandth time today as I think about it. It's my fault that he died. I was just trying to give him some warmth and some light to see, since living in eternal blackness sounds terrifying. But now he'll never see anything again.

Sure enough, Panem's national anthem plays as the sky lights up with artificial glamour. Drew's face appears first, his unseeing eyes staring right at me on the earth. Following him is the girl from Seven, the one that joined the Careers. I don't even have it in me to be glad that she's dead. She wasn't the one that killed Drew.

I sit there for several more minutes after the lights and music fall away, leaving me in horrible silence. The moonlight on the water keeps me company, but that's it. I can't stay in here forever. I have to go back to where it all happened. Or I'll die in here, and living is the least I can do to honor Drew's memory.

I pick myself up and retrace my footsteps, hoping I'll be able to make it out of here eventually. I wouldn't put it past the Gamemakers to keep me in here forever until I go insane. But I do make it back to the beginning of the caves, looking out for the Careers every step of the way. It's unlikely they're still hanging around here, but I can't be too careful.

When I finally emerge into the moonlight, I sigh and feel the gentle breeze against my skin. But I don't allow myself too long of a rest; it's too open out here to stay in any one place, and I need to get my supplies back. I start on a light jog, trying to figure out where the boulder cluster is through the darkness. After about forty-five minutes or so, I'm suddenly upon it, even quicker than I imagined.

I try to keep a neutral face as I look for old hideout, one hand sliding against a rock at all times to keep me grounded. It isn't long before I find the remnants of the fire I made, the ground stained dark with Drew's blood. I swallow thickly and gather up my matches and grab my backpack. The Careers seem to have taken my sword, perhaps afraid another unarmed tribute would find it. But I still have my firemaking kit, the pot, the food, and the net.

I'm going to survive no matter what it takes.

I suddenly hear voices coming from somewhere close, and immediately drop to the ground. One sounds female and the other male, and they're coming from my right. I gently creep forward until I can hear them more clearly.

"...get to the beach and catch some food."

"You're telling me," the boy says, sounding upset. "You better not lose it this time."

"What a way to talk to the woman who decides whether you starve or not," she replies, but I can tell she's joking.

"Wait," the guys says lowly, and I cover my mouth to keep from breathing too loudly. I see two figures shift in the barely-there light of the moon, coming towards me.

"Who's there?" the girl asks quietly.

There's a short silence, then the guys says, "We won't hurt you."

I don't buy that in a second. I stay where I am and don't move, relieved when they finally start to walk away.

"Don't say that, Jason," the girl scolds, her voice getting softer the farther away they get. "We can't make promises we can't keep."

* * *

 **Hey guys! I know I keep saying this, but sorry for the wait. Life got in the way of my writing for a few days, but I hope this chapter is worth the wait. As always, please leave a review! I enjoy reading everyone's thoughts about the chapter :)**

 **I hope you all have a great week!**


	28. The Thrid Day: Disaster

_Amelia Waltraud (16)- D5F_

The night is still dark and chilly, and I shiver as I listen to the girl from one hurl insults at me from the ground. We can't see each other, but I can hear her every now and then yelling up at me as if to make sure I know she's there. The boy's pained groans reach my ears as well. I might have delivered a death sentence to him. I don't see how anyone could survive a fall from this height, but he has clung to his life for hours now as his ally nurses him.

I didn't even have time to think before I pushed him. I was having the strangest dream, one of a horrible demon sitting over me and trying to choke me. It was the most terrifying dream I ever had, but when I awoke, there was a Career standing over me instead. I had pushed him without a second thought. I sat here shaking for hours afterward, afraid that the girl from One would come up here to enact her revenge, but perhaps she was too afraid to after what I did to him. Now dark has fallen again, and I'm too afraid to go back to sleep. One of the Careers is scary enough, but I couldn't bare to have that demon return to my dreams. I'm too scared to sleep, so I stay huddled on my ledge, listening to the wind whistle through my ears and the moans of pain from the man I might have killed.

I glance up at the mountain above me. I've pushed away any notions of climbing farther up the mountainside, but I've been feeling strange ever since my dream last night, almost like a feeling of invincibility. I haven't eaten any of my jerky all day, not even feeling hunger. I haven't had water in nearly three days, yet I can't feel a thing. Perhaps I'm becoming delusional, but I try not to think that way/

In the light of the moon, I can see the rockface rising above me. It's better than going down to where my pursuers are. Maybe they won't even notice that I'm climbing higher. I consider getting out my flashlight and planning a course on the mountain, but that would alert the Careers to my plan. I didn't climb this far with any light, and I don't need it this time either. The darkness will help shield me from the eyes of the Careers.

I swing my backpack onto my back, staring up the mountain with determination. I've made it this far. For Caleb, for Elanor, for my mother. I have to survive by any means possible. My life isn't just my own anymore; Caleb died for me, and I have to honor his sacrifice.

I reach a hand up to grab the rock, pulling myself up. I try not to make a sound, even though I know any small noises won't reach the Career's ears. I can't be too careful. My feet find purchase on the rock, and my ascent has begun.

I continue to pull myself up, not thinking about how far I would drop if I were to fall, or even how far I have left to go. I have all night left to climb as far as I'm concerned. I don't even feel any burning in my muscles like I did the first time I climbed up. The blackness of the night swims in front of me, so much that I can barely see each hand that I reach up to climb with. I have sudden deja-vu of hiding in the dark, menacing water in the cave. My stomach twists unpleasantly, but I keep climbing. Did the water do something to me?

The rock underneath my foot suddenly drops out from underneath me, and all the air is knocked out of me as I dangle in the air for a few moments. I haul myself back up, breathing hard as I hear the rock tumble down the mountain, making quite a ruckus as it goes. I don't hear anything else, so I continue climbing with renewed fervor.

I climb for what feels like an eternity before I reach an actual level place to rest. I pull myself up gratefully, laying my face on the ground. I don't even care that I'm breathing in dust. I reach out to see how large my ledge is, but I can't feel the rockface anywhere. I shakily stand and realize I'm not on the side of the mountain anymore. I'm some sort of path on the mountain itself. I smile to myself in triumph. Now I just need to find somewhere to lay low for the rest of the night.

 _Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M_

I do circles around the Cornucopia in the dark, dragging my axe in the sand like a madman. I've already dried my jacket so that it's not sopping wet, but it's still a little damp and it makes me shiver in the cold of the night. I don't know where Tiffany and Hadrian are, but I don't really care. No cannons have gone off since Willow died on the beach, so they're still alive somewhere. Wherever they are, it doesn't seem like they care at all about meeting back up. They might still be at the cliff waiting for that Six girl, but I don't care enough to go look. Leaving thee Cornucopia unguarded for too long isn't a good idea.

As I pace, I growl to myself, hoping the cameras pick it up. I switch my axe over to my other hand, gripping it tightly. After the traitor from Four and her little consort killed Willow, I had tried tracking them, but lost them in a matter of minutes. The night was too dark, and the water too loud. I watched a hovercraft come to left away Willow's body, her blonde hair wet and covering her face. I never cared much for her, but she was a member of our pack nonetheless. Now there are only three of us, within just three days. And it truly is all because of the traitor girl Nikki. I can't wait to wrap my hands around her perfect throat and squeeze the life out of her.

The air is getting colder, and starts to whip around my head. In a fury, I swing my axe over my head and bring it down onto the dusty earth. I pull it out of the ground harshly, breathing heavily as I imagine someone's neck where the imprint of the blade is. These Games are surely exciting for the viewers, but my failure to kill anyone since the bloodbath is starting to weigh on me. The Capitol's bloodthirst is starting to wear off on me. The last time I felt like this, I had Rufina to comfort me, but now she is dead, killed by the same people that killed Willow.

My chances of winning aren't sure until that Nikki is dead.

There's a whistling sound in my ears. I blink slowly at the rising sun above me, it's light barely illuminating the land. I can see particles of dust whipping around me, the wind suddenly so strong it almost knocks me over. The sand enters my mouth as I inhale, making me cough and cover my mouth with my hand. Could the Gamemakers be messing with me?

The wind starts howling again. Just to be safe, I grip my axe tightly and head inside the Cornucopia, finding a place to watch the golden sand erupt violently outside the entrance. I guess the audience is getting a little bored already, and they need some fun with the arena to keep them entertained. Well, I may be willing to fight to the death, but dying in some stupid Gamemaker trick isn't apart of the plan.

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

My breakfast consists of a few bites of my jerky, and some grapes. I find that my limbs aren't as easy to move now, my head feeling foggy and slow. I know its because I haven't had anything to drink in days, and even though the grapes have enough moisture in them to keep me going, I'll need to get some water from the river eventually. The thought makes my stomach twist with fear, almost feeling nauseous when I remember the spear that pierced right through Denver's stomach at the bloodbath. There had been so much blood, his guts spilling out after the girl from Two had retrieved her spear from her body.

I shudder. _Try not to think about it,_ I tell myself as I gather my items into my backpack. Today is a good a day as any to make the trek down to the river. With no bottles or anyway to take it with me, I'll need to stay there for who knows how long. After all my time here in this cabin, I find it hard to leave. I sigh as I look around it, its wooden walls practically caving in, but providing shelter for me nonetheless.

My eyes fall on something peeking out from underneath the bed. I never noticed it before, instead preferring to spend my time on the bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling or out the door, over the desert's wide plain. I pick up the object and wipe off the sand, surprised to see it's a book. It looks like it's been here as the bed has, the cover worn and faded. Some of the pages are falling out, and threaten to slide from the book until I push them back in. I open it carefully, wondering why the Gamemakers would leave this here for someone.

The first page is so faded I can't read much of it, but the next page jumps right into what appears to be some kind of journal. " _This place is a paradise."_ It reads. " _With enough water for everyone and space to grow our own food, we'll be able to stay here all our lives_." It continues in a similar way for several pages, and I find myself engrossed in it. Whoever supposedly wrote this used to live in this shack, and wrote about their day-to-day activities in great detail.

Eventually, I close the book and stuff it into my backpack. It will give me something to do, at least. It's then that I realize the wind has picked up around the walls of the shack. I can hear it whistling and hitting the walls with such force I'm afraid it will be knocked over. Outside the doorway, the sand is whipping around in the air, and I'm afraid to go outside lest I get swept away. I sit on the bed as the thunder starts, loud, booming thunder that shakes me to my core.

There's nothing I can do about it now. All I can do is stay here and hope the winds stop before I die from dehydration.

Then I hear the rain start to patter on the tin roof of the shack.

 _Tomas Fields (15)- D11M_

I was watching the pair of allies that I ran into last night when it began. I had followed them down to the mouth of the river, where it spills out over the cliff and into the ocean, but it was too dark for me to climb down after them, and so I had decided to find somewhere to lay low for the rest of the night. Across the river, there was a large cluster of boulders that I had slept in, sheltered from other tributes. The next morning, I had risen early enough so that I could climb down to the beach while they were still asleep. They slept curled up by the cliff, the boy sitting up like he was supposed to be keeping watch, but had fallen asleep.

I don't want to alarm them, so I decide to wait until they wake up to approach them. The girl had said last night that they wouldn't help anyone they came across, but I remember the boy from training. He had protected some of the younger tributes from the Careers' bullying, and once the girl sees that I was Drew's ally, surely she will let me in the alliance.

The storm comes on suddenly and rapidly. One minute, I'm sitting by the waterfall and the air is still and humid, the next, it's alive with sand and rain and saltwater.

I try to find something to grab onto, but the beach is void of any rocks or anything solid. The wind rolls me over into the waterfall behind me, and I feel my mouth fill with water. I gasp and try to find my way out, but between the water and the dizzying wind, I can't figure out which way is up and which is down. I feel like my body is being pushed somewhere, and before I know it, I'm floating in the deep endless of the ocean, saltwater filling my mouth. The water isn't as wild here, and I can see the promising sunlight shimmering through the water.

I desperately start swimming up to the surface, trying to remember Drew's swimming tips. My head breaks through the water and I gasp for air, my limbs splashing around as the storm whips around me. Lightning hits the beach, which luckily isn't too far away. I'm almost pulled under again by the current, and I have to struggle to keep my head above water. I start to swim toward the beach, but it feels like the ocean is pulling me further away with every violent wave.

I accidentally gulp in a huge mouthful of water as the ocean pulls me under again. I manage to come back to the surface for some air, then go back and start swimming with all my might in the direction of the beach. The only time I've ever swam was in the pool at the training center, but I try to put everything I learned that day to use. The water keeps trying to pull me backwards, but I won't go. I know the Gamemakers probably don't want me to win, not with my attitude toward the Games bordering on rebellious. But I'm not dying, not yet at least.

It takes several minutes and several times of feeling like I'm going to drown, but I eventually make it to shore. I grab a handful of wet sand and pull myself onto the land, coughing and spluttering up water. I crawl as far up as I can, trying to be blown away again by the wind. I make it all the way up to the cliff and stay there, curling into a ball and burying my face in my knees. I breathe out deeply, shivering as the wind whistles past me and the rain continues to soak my clothes. At least I made it out of the water, even if I end up dying of hypothermia.

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

The storm is unlike any other I've been through, though we don't get a lot of them in Seven. The rain drenches us in seconds, and we're forced to huddle into balls on the ground to avoid being tossed down the mountainside. Tag tries to hold his empty canteen of water up where he can catch some drinking water, but I yell at him to put it away. If that blows away, then we won't have anything to drink out of.

The day, once so sunny and bright has transformed completely into a dark, swirling vortex of air and water.

"Grab onto something!" I shout over the thunder and pressure of the rain. My hand grabs a stone jutting out of the ground as the wind starts to blow dangerously quickly, almost causing me to tumble down the mountain. Once the wind is going full speed, I can't tell which way is up, down, or where Tag is. One wrong move could land me at the bottom of the mountain or even smash my body into another boulder. Debris of trees, grass, and even small rocks are flying around me, a few of them hitting my body and smacking me painfully.

A large log comes out of nowhere and almost knocks into me, and I have to duck down farther to avoid it. My hands let go of the rock in my panic, and I'm suddenly blown away into the wind. My scream is lost to the air, my back hitting a hard surface and knocking the wind out of me. I lay motionless for a few moments, gasping for air. My mouth fills with dust and my hands start to scrabble for purchase on the ground. I notice a large tree next to me, and I roll over and try to crawl over to it. I grab the trunk and hold on. Even the tree itself is waving in the violent wind, but it holds steady to the ground.

"Tag!" I yell, hoping against hope that he would answer. But I can hear nothing except the blowing of the wind, the distant rumbles of thunder. "Tag, where are you?" If Tag dies in this thunderstorm, I will never forgive myself. Not him, right after losing Sock…

I can hear the rumble of thunder, much louder this time, and then lightning cracks almost immediately beside my tree. It's so blindingly white that my vision leaves me for a second, and I let go of the tree to crawl away as quickly as possible. As I flee, the tree is illuminated with light, sizzling and crackling loudly before the world goes dark again.

…

"Seb! Seb, wake up! Are you okay?"

My head is throbbing painfully, my clothes soaked. I can hear someone's voice swimming in my subconscious. For a moment, I wonder if it is Alexis, waking me up for another shift in the forest. But then my eyes fly open and I'm painfully reminded of where I am.

"Tag?" I ask groggily. The sky above me is perfectly innocent again, blue and cloudless with not so much as a breeze. The humidity hangs heavily in the air.

"Seb, you're awake!"

I sit up slowly, feeling Tag place a hand on my back to help me.

"How long has it been?" I ask, rubbing at my forehead.

"I think a couple of hours," he says, he wild purple fringe only slightly covering his concerned look. "The storm went on for so long, then it completely went away in twenty seconds. I even counted it. Then there was a cannon."

"The storm stopped because it killed someone," I say darkly. "Are you okay?"  
"Yes, I'm fine," he waves away my concern. "The hardest part was finding you. Have you noticed where we are yet?"

I glanced around, my heart sinking when I realize we're not on the mountain anymore, but at a cluster of boulders near the bottom.

"The Gamemakers want us closer together," he says bitterly. "I think that's the reason why it stopped. We were all too far apart."

"Maybe." I take the canteen from Tag's belt and take a large swig. "How _did_ you find me?"

"Well, I stuck my knife in the ground so that I wouldn't blow away. But after the storm let up, you were gone. So I tried to think about where you would fall based on the formation of the rocks. And then I saw you laying here from up on the mountain. It was easy, really."

Sometimes I forget how clever Tag really is. Even without me, he would stand a good chance of winning.

I slowly stand, making sure not to overdo it. The cut on my arm doesn't seem like it's reopened at all, probably because it was nearly all the way healed. My medicine is still in my pocket, in case I need to use it again anyway.

"What's our next step?" Tag asks, his eyes squinting in the sun. "Should we try climbing again?"

"No," I say decidedly. "It's time we handled ourselves. We can fight anyone we come across."

The words are more for the Capitol than anything, to give them a good linie to show on the screen. Tag is so small, but he's anything but helpless. We can survive.

 _Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F_

I was heading to the Cornucopia when the storm hit. After careful deliberation, I decided another raid would be the only way I could find another weapon after losing mine to the girl from Twelve. While I wait for her face to show up in the night sky one of these days, for she will surely die of her wounds, I can't protect myself with just my bare hands. So I begin the trek back to the golden horn. I know it likely won't be unprotected like last time, but I can still sneak my way over to a weapon and back out. Maybe I could even take out of the Careers while I'm there. That would surely show the Capitol that I'm not to be trifled with.

But the air picks up before I can get there, and the rain starts not long after that. I know what game the Gamemakers are playing. The Capitol is bored, so they've cooked up a special event for us tributes. The Capitol will watch us struggle to survive this not-so-natural disaster.

Where I'm at, there isn't much to grab onto. I try to keep running, thinking about how boring this must be to watch. People sitting outside in the rain doesn't sound incredibly exciting, but the Capitol has lots of strange interests.

Then the wind becomes even louder, whistling in my ears and thunder rumbling not far away. I start to wonder if this is one of the tornadoes that very occasionally hits District Three, but this feels different. The wind isn't swirling is any particular direction, more simply coming from any way it sees fit, as if it's trying to knock me over. I stubbornly keep going, not willing to show the cameras any weakness.

But the Gamemakers have other plans. The rain has already drenched me so that I must weigh nearly ten extra pounds, but that doesn't stop the wind from blowing me away as if I were a feather. I scream as I'm lifted into the air. It isn't quite like the sensation of falling, but something entirely different and more terrifying. I'm at the will of the storm, which smashes me against the ground several times before depositing me somewhere and filling my mouth with sand.

My hands scrabble against the ground, but the sand crumbles underneath my fingers. I start to dig instead, burying my body in the sand so that the wind can't lift me up again. I try to keep my head above the sand, even though i can barely see a thing and feel like I'm drowning in the rain. But no matter how hard the wind tries, it can't unroot me from the ground.

Then the rain suddenly stops, minutes after I triumphed against it. I wait a few more minutes before shaking the sand off myself and returning above ground, just in case the Gamemakers are still toying with me. But nothing happens, so I emerge from the wet sand, trying to make sense of my surroundings. I appear to be in the desert part of the arena, which is why there was so much sand for me to shield myself with. I'm certainly much farther away from the Cornucopia then I would have liked, but it's not the worst place to end up. There's still enough daylight left in the day to get to the Cornucopia and catch the Careers unawares right after the storm.

The sand is wet and my boots make a deep imprint in it with each step. It's strange to see the desert landscape soaking wet from the storm, completely unnatural. I climb one of the dunes, which is quite difficult due to the sand crumbling under me. I pant as I stand tall on the dune and raise a hand to block out the sun. The two mountains in the distance don't look as far away as I thought they would be, but that could be a trick of their size. I have a long trek ahead of me today. I might not even make it, and have to rest before continuing tomorrow.

As I start to check to see if I still have all of my supplies, I hear a strange screaming noise from behind me. I turn around sharply, but I can't see anything. Are there other tributes here that are fighting? If so, I better leave as fast as possible. I don't have a weapon to defend myself with, especially if they are a Career.

I start running down the dune, but I hear the noise again, this time joined by other screams of the same pitch. They echo off the sand eerily. I continue running until I hear a growling noise, turning to see a dog-like creature atop the dune. It bares its teeth at me as two… three… four other dogs appear from behind it. Their fur is brown and mottled, saliva dripping from their mouths.

Pure terror pumps through my body as I run as fast as I can, struggling up the next dune and listening to them growl and howl in their strange, scream-like way. They are far too large to be actual dogs, definitely muttations created by the Capitol to terrorize me and the rest of the tributes.

For a moment, their noises seem to dissipate and I wonder if they will even try to kill me. Then I hear their pawsteps in the sand, their growls as they unmistakably run after me.

My feet pound into the sand as I run, but I already know I'm not as fast enough. Four-legged, genetically engineered creatures are much more agile than a hungry, slightly dehydrated teenage girl. It's inevitable.

I feel the first one grab onto my leg, the teeth digging in sharply. I scream in pain and fall to the ground as another grabs my arm and starts to pull. Before I know it, the entire pack of dogs is all over me, tearing me apart with their teeth as I writhe and scream in agony. I hear their ragged howling and feel their sharp teeth find my neck before my vision fades away.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)0 D1F_

The storm dies down suddenly and all at once, signalling that the Gamemakers have achieved whatever goal they were trying for. Hadrian and I were fortunate enough to have a cave to hide in, but the other tributes might not have been so fortunate. The cannon that goes off a few minutes later is enough evidence for that.

After the rain lets up, I peek my head out of the cave and glance around. There's no one in sight, and the landscape is eerily quiet after the raging wind. I grip my sword tightly as I venture out far enough to look up for the girl from Five. I can't see her, but I imagine that she was blown away in the storm. She might even be the tribute that died if she was thrown from the mountain down to the beach. That would be a farther fall than the one Hadrian took, and sure to kill anyone.

"Tiffany," I hear Hadrian hiss from inside the cave. "Do you see anything?"

"Nope, everything's fine," I say as I reenter the cave. "The girl might be gone, but that's to be expected. We need to get back to the Cornucopia."

"Alright," he says gruffly. He lifts himself up from the ground and struggles to stand. His shoulder wound has reopened, and his knee is twisted at an odd angle, but his pain is carefully disguised. I've been applying the medicine to his wound periodically since his fall, but it must still hurt. I also suspect that he has a few ribs broken, but I don't want to ask.

He must know that all chances of his victory have disappeared. That's why he's trying to act so nonchalant about his injuries to me and to the audience, but it's obvious that he's a hopeless case.

If my district partner was dead by now, it would be time for me to set off on my own. But seeing as Tiger and I are now the only Careers with a chance of winning, we need to work together to bring home a victory for District One.

"I can walk on my own, but you'll have to take my sword," Hadrian says, holding himself up by grabbing the wall of the cave.

"Why don't you use it as a crutch?" I suggest, and his eyes darken.

"I'm not a cripple," he says lowly. "I'll be healed in a few days."

"I know," I assure him. "I'm just giving you a suggestion."

He huffs and unsheathes his sword, leaning on it gently. "Let's get going, then."

The journey back to the Cornucopia takes almost the rest of the day. We have to stop to rest multiple times, the first one at my proposal. I can tell he doesn't want to show any weakness on camera, but after an hour or so of slow, painful walking I can tell he needs to stop for a minute. We rest for a little while, then start again. After a few more stops, the sun is hanging low in the sky, the deep orange color of sunset clearly visible.

We're nearly all out of water after being away from the Cornucopia for nearly two days, so I have to ration the rest of it carefully despite the burning heat. Hadrian is sweating and grunting with each step, his body that was once so large and intimidating now reduced to a stumbling, crippled mass of flesh.

Eventually, I can see the golden horn glinting on the horizon. Hadrian sighs beside me, stopping for a second. I continue on for a few seconds, but then I hear a grunt from behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see Hadrian has collapsed onto the ground.

"Shoot," I say under my breath.

 _Eryn Winters (15)- D12F_

I groan as I try to roll over, only for my body to jolt awake with pain. I gasp for air as my neck screams with agony every time I move. Above me, the sky is darkening and the stars are coming out. I whimper as I try to sit up, realizing my jacket is missing and there is a bandage around the wound on my clavicle. I reach a trembling hand up to touch the material, looking around.

I'm on a beach, so beautiful that it can't be a part of the arena. Has the storm blown me so far that I've accidentally escaped the arena?

"You're awake."

I jump and turn to see the owner of the voice. He's sitting beside me with a gentle smile on his face, his bright blue eyes electrifying.

"Y-you're the one from the bloodbath," I stutter, sitting up farther. "The one that saved me."

"Yes, I recognized you as soon as I saw you laying here on the shore." He grins. "I'm glad you're alive. My ally killed the girl who was trying to kill you at the Cornucopia, but I'm sure you already know that."

I nod wordlessly. This guy saved my life during the bloodbath, but what are his intentions now? If he really found me on the beach, blown and carried away by the storm, then surely it would be in his best interest to leave me where I was, especially with my injury. But instead, he bound my wound and saved me again.

"You were in pretty bad shape, but Nikki and I tried to help you the best we could. I have some medicine that was gifted to me, and my wound is mostly healed, so we can use the rest for you." His smile is bright and friendly, but I know better than to take his words at face value.

"Why?" I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

He frowns. "You would have died without us."

"And that would have been good for you, wouldn't it?" I ask, not even sure why I'm goading him like this.

But he just laughs. "Maybe. But a large alliance is a strong alliance. Don't stab us in the back and we won't stab you, okay?"

"Okay," I say after a beat. "How long was I out?"

"About five or six hours," he says, leaning over to pick up a fish I didn't notice was beside him. The fish is cooked and already halfway eaten, and he offers the rest to me with a smile.

"Thank you," I say hesitantly, but I accept the fish nonetheless. There isn't a lot of seafood in Twelve, but I've had a few fish before. I usually don't enjoy them that much, but this one tastes incredible after eating nothing all day.

As I dig in with my hands, probably disgusting the Capitolite viewers, the guy stands up. "I'm Jason. What's your name, again?"

"Eryn," I say with my mouth full. If this is some kind of trap, it's too late to back out now.

"It's nice to properly meet you, Eryn."

I nod in agreement, taking another bite. "Where is your ally? Nikki?"

Jason's face falls. "She's… not too happy about taking you in. She went to the water to fish some more."

"District Four," I mumble. Of course she doesn't want to help me, she's Career-bred.

Suddenly, the Panem national anthem plays loudly throughout the arena. Jason and I both look up in anticipation. There is only one face today, the girl from Three.

"That's the girl that hurt me!" I exclaim. "She threw that knife at me and- where's my knife?"  
"Nikki thinks it's best to keep you unarmed for now," he says darkly. "But she'll come around, don't worry."

I look up at the night sky again, listening to the gentle waves from the sea. It's strange that the girl who tried to kill me is dead. I've survived, and she didn't. Should i be glad? She was Reaped the same as me.

"You should get some more rest," Jason says, adjusting my jacket underneath me. "I'll keep watch. Then you can meet Nikki in the morning."

I nod, laying back and trying to clear my head. If sleeping is the only escape from the arena, then I'll gladly take it.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hope you all had a great week. We lost one tribute today.**

 **12th:** ** _Tesla Sherman (16)- D3F-_** **killed by muttations. Created by haydesx. Tesla was the first tribute submission that I received, so killing her off seems strange. She was definitely a fun tribute to write considering her logical, calculated perspective on life. But unfortunately she's met her untimely end in these Games. I'll certainly miss writing her!**

 **Thank you to everyone who is staying tuned to this story. It really means a lot!**

 **In the time being, what were your thoughts on the thunderstorm? Hadrian's injuries, Jason aiding Eryn, or any of the other events in this chapter?**


	29. The Fourth and Fifth Days: The Aftermath

_Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_

The sun rises the next morning over our little camp, reflecting off the sea and nearly blinding me as I sit watch over my allies. I'd spent many sunsets on the beach in District Four, sitting with my friends and the other trainees at the Academy. My parents didn't like me to hang out with other teenagers, thinking it took time away from my training. I would have to sneak away in the middle of the night to be with anyone outside of school and training. It became even stricter after Marcus died. Even then, when I was thirteen, I knew this moment would come, when I was sitting awake in the middle of the night for a different reason entirely.

I glance over at the girl from Twelve, who is peacefully sleeping on her jacket. Jason made a small bonfire before he went to sleep, despite my objections. He wants to keep the little girl warm through the night, apparently not caring if the Careers see us. I'm the one who has to keep watch, of course.

I don't approve of the girl, but for some reason I don't want to betray Jason and kill her. Jason himself is far too valuable of an asset as well. When I imagined myself here years ago, I didn't imagine I would ever have to bow to anyone else's wishes. The Careers always have the same goal in mind, never thinking about compassion or helping others.

I glance over at Jason's sleeping face. A young death has always a possibility for me, but I'm just now starting to realize that if I die soon, I don't want to die like my brother. He was a good man, but he spent his last few weeks with only other murderers and nothing but violent thoughts in his head. He died alone and with no one to mourn him but me, not even his own parents.

If I die, my parents won't mourn me. But if Jason wins, he will mourn me. Along with Eryn, and anyone else who dies in the Games that isn't a Career. He might be the first actual kind person that I've ever met. Even my friends at the Academy were only bloodthirsty, murderous children.

Jason wakes up as the sun rises, stretching out on the sand. He glances over at where I'm sitting, reaching over for some fish that I roasted while they were sleeping. Cold fish isn't pleasant, but he doesn't show any disgust when he bites into it.

"See anything?" he asks me quietly.

"No," I say bitterly. "No more useless children."

Jason harrumphs. "I know you're just acting. I've seen your kind side and you can't hide it from me anymore."

I raise an eyebrow. It's hard to figure out if he's being serious, or if this is just for the cameras. I suspect it's both. But my angle isn't the kind-hearted, pretty girl. I'm the gorgeous, lethal woman. I know what happens to the compassionate tributes who score high. They might become fan favorites, but their chances of winning are disproportionately low. Caring too much about your enemies makes you soft, and every other tribute in the arena is your enemy.

That's why I can't get too attached to Jason, no matter how blue his eyes are.

"We should move farther west," I say. "Until we find the forcefield. It's a good place to stay until the final eight or less."

"Good idea," Jason says, standing up and brushing off his clothes. "Did you make more fresh water while I was asleep?"

"No, I didn't. I was busy keeping watch."

"Alright, I'll do it."

While Jason is over at the waterfall, Eryn gently sits up. When she sees me, her eyes widen. "Hey," she says sweetly, a hand reaching up to her bandaged neck. I silently curse Jason for saving her life. Her time has clearly come to leave the competition, but Jason has extended her life beyond its limits.

"Good morning," I say, trying to sound neutral. "Are you hungry?"

Even if I don't 'approve, I can't change it now. I can't kill this defenseless little girl. Maybe Jason is rubbing off on me more than I expected.

 _Amelia Waltraud (16)- D5F_

The storm was possibly the most terrifying thing I've ever been through, even the bloodbath. The wind and flying debris threatened to blow me away with every step I took, and I couldn't see anything for hours when the storm was at its peak. I had to gather my things and curl up into a ball on the ground to avoid getting thrown up in the air.

After the whole ordeal is over, I'm exhausted and have make a camp for the night under a bush. I try to start a fire with my matches, but don't have much luck. All of my supplies are soaking wet from the rain, and I spend the night shivering under the bush. I eat a few pieces of jerky to soothe my stomach and try to sleep, but I don't have much luck. I fall asleep for a few minutes, only to be woken back up again by the same horrible nightmare as before. I spend the following morning hiking up the mountain, hoping I'll find somewhere to lay low.

The sun is bright as the morning heats up, my clothes sticking to my sweaty skin. There are a few fruit trees that line the path on the way up, and I take a few peaches to eat on the way up. They're incredibly juicy and satisfying, more so than any peach I ate in concrete-filled District Five. After a day of hiking, I set up camp under a tree and try to get some sleep despite my nightmares. The next morning, after a few hours of hiking, the path starts to level out, and I realize I must be nearing the top of the mountain. I can only hope the Gamemakers haven't set up some kind of trap for me up there.

The path ends abruptly, and as I turn to corner to a plateau, I immediately see someone. I quickly hide behind the rock, gulping. Did I come all this way for nothing? I could stay on the path for a while, but how long would it be until the other tribute had to come down for supplies or to hunt?

I let out a deep breath. I don't have a weapon to take them out, but I can't just go back. I owe it to Caleb. If I make a kill now, the Capitol will see that I'm serious about winning.

I glance past my rock to see that the girl who's standing at the cliff is picking grapes off the vine and popping them into her mouth. To her left, there is a slumping wooden shack, the roof caving in on the building. One of the walls is sliding to the side. Despite the state of the shack, the idea of having a shelter to stay in is enough to give me strength. If I kill the girl, I will have the shack and whatever supplies she has. It's a perfect set up.

The girl turns around, and I have to duck away, hoping against hope that she didn't see me. I hear her walking away, and not towards me, which is a good sign. It's only then that I realize what an opportunity I missed. I could have pushed her off that cliff and been done with it, but now it's too late. Since I don't have a weapon, it's only safe to assume that she does. My best best is to wait and see if she stands near the cliff again… isn't it? I've already done it once. Maybe I could do it again.

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

I drift in and out of consciousness for most of the day, my pain so all-encompassing that I can't even figure out where it's coming from. All I know is that my head is pounding and my back is killing me. I hear a female voice talking to me every now and then, and another male one angrily arguing with her. Somewhere in my brain I know that it is my allies from One, but I can't speak to them or stay awake long enough to understand what they're saying. When I do wake up, it's to the sound of the national anthem loudly playing throughout the arena. I'm laying just inside the Cornucopia, enough that I can see the sky outside, where the Capitol emblem is displayed over the stars. The anthem doesn't last very long; there are no faces to display.

"Tiffany," I groan, trying to crawl out of the golden horn. My entire body aches, and I can feel my ribs shifting inside my body and causing indescribable pain. I try not to cry out and stay composed for the cameras.

"Hadrian?" I hear her ask, sounding surprised. I hear footsteps coming towards me, but Tiger is the one that appears first. His silhouette stands over me, axe in hand.

"Good morning, Hadrian," Tiger says darkly.

"Tiger, this isn't the time," I groan out. "Where's Tiffany?"

"Tiger, leave him alone," I hear Tiffany's voice grow nearer. "Please, we have to talk about this."

"What is there to talk about?" Tiger growls, twirling his axe menacingly. "He can't even walk, look! None of your arguments from earlier are valid."

"I just woke up!" I exclaim, my voice cracking from disuse. "Give me some time, at least."

"Tiger, we have to think about this," Tiffany says calmly. "You have nothing to prove. We can wait for a little while longer."

Tiger huffs and walks away, grumbling to himself.

My body trembles as I sit myself up, propping my body against the Cornucopia. "How long have I been out?"

"Just one day," Tiffany says, unscrewing her canteen and handing it over to me. I take a large gulp and sigh loudly, sniffling. "The storm didn't even kill the girl that hurt you," she says, shaking her head. "It was just the weird girl from Three that died yesterday, and no one today. Things are moving far too slowly. We're four days in and there's still eleven tributes left. And there's only three of us alive, and you're injured."

"Not for long," I say with determination. "I'm going to be fine. Just give me a day to recover."

"We might not have the time," Tiffany says, her tone completely neutral. I glance up at her. I've started to realize over the course of the Games that Tiffany isn't the person I first thought she was. She might be a little naive and rigid at times, but she isn't stupid. Nor is she especially merciful. If wouldn't betray me as an ally, but if she thinks that I don't stand a chance of surviving, she would kill me without a second thought. Cassius killed the girl from One in her sleep during his Games, but I know that all One tributes aren't as weak as she was. They were trained in an Academy same as me.

"You will have time," I say firmly. "Just give me a chance, Tiffany."

She stares at me for a few moments, then nods. "I'll keep him away, okay?"

"Thank you," I say weakly, taking another drink of water. I try to stay calm on the outside, even though I know that I might be lying to Tiffany. I've let down all of District Two. I was supposed to bring home a win for the second year in a row after Celia, and Two's fourth crown in seven years, but instead all I've done is injure myself and kill two weak tributes. I let Rufina die during the bloodbath, taking away District Two's other chance of winning.

For the first time since before the Reaping, I feel fear. And it's so much worse than the pain.

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

Seb has been especially quiet today, even quieter than usual. I thought maybe it was because our list of enemies is growing smaller day by day, but after the sun has set and the national anthem has played, no faces appear in the sky. I turn to catch his reaction, but there is none.

"Are you okay?" I ask after a few minutes.

"Yes, I'm fine," he says quietly, munching on his apple. We still have a few from our trek on the mountain, but I'm tired of the same starchy, wild apple. It's all we've been eating for days, apples and various leaves that Seb knows are edible from his time as a lumberjack. My stomach growls as I take another bite, sighing.

"Are _you_ okay?" he asks me, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah!" I say enthusiastically. "I just… you seem upset."

"I'm a little sore," he huffs, taking another bite. "But I'm okay."

"From your fall?" I inquire, taking a sip of my water. We've been rationing it out slowly, but there's only a few more gulps left. It won't be long until it's all depleted. Maybe it was good that the Gamemakers knocked us off the mountain after all, even though there are probably lots of tributes down on the shore. We need water and some real food after spending four days living on apples and a few sips of water. My pee has been dark for days, and I've begun to feel a little dizzy and even nauseous today.

"Yeah, probably," Seb says. "We need more food and water."

"Way to state the obvious," I say. "We've been out of the action. We haven't seen anyone since the bloodbath, so there hasn't been a chance to prove ourselves."

Seb glances up at me from under his white-blond fringe. "Are you suggesting we…"

"Kill someone? Isn't that what this is all about?"

Seb grunts and sits up, avoiding my eyes. "I suppose. But we've been doing pretty good so far."

"We can't avoid it forever," I say gently. "Not while we're down here."

"Let's try to get to the river tomorrow," Seb says hoarsely. "We need water."

"And food," I add. "We can only get that down at the ocean. Do you know how to fish?"

"Well… I know how to make a net."

I look down at my lap. "Our strength comes from fighting. That's why people sent us these gifts. They wanted to see you- _us_ fight."

Seb takes a deep breath. "I know."

A few beats pass, and I stand up, my vision blacking out for a moment. I put a hand on Seb's shoulder to steady myself. "I'm going to check my trap," I tell him. He grunts again in acknowledgement.

Earlier in the day, I had set up a trap for a small animal on the other side of the rock cluster. I had set up a few on the mountain as well, but never caught anything except a small mouse creature that had hardly enough meat to feed one of us, let alone both.

In the light of the moon, I can see that my simple trap has been activated, but there is nothing trapped. Whatever set it off has escaped yet again. I growl in frustration, along with my stomach. Seb and I can't get to the ocean fast enough. Even if he doesn't want to, I'm going to force him to go down to the beach tomorrow morning so that we can fish.

 _Jason Sparks (18)- D6M_

We spent the day yesterday walking the beach, looking out for other tributes and the end of the arena. We haven't reached the forcefield yet, much to Nikki's distress. We're traveling much slower with Eryn in our company, and I know that annoys her. We settled down for the night at a bonfire, and Eryn even suggested that she take a shift watching over the camp. I let her do it for an hour or so, but I stayed awake just in case. The sand is actually quite comfortable to lay on, and with the warmth of the fire, it's difficult not to drift off into slumber. After Eryn's shift, I take mine, and then wake Nikki up for hers. I drift in and out unconsciousness for the rest of the night, and wake up to Nikki's voice speaking lowly to me.

My eyes open slowly, and I see Nikki standing above me with her hands cupped in front of her, staring at me.

"What are you doing?" I ask, sitting up quickly.

She raises an eyebrow and separates her hands, letting water slip through her fingers and onto the sand. "Just trying to wake you up," she says neutrally. I hear Eryn giggling from not far away. I look past Nikki and see she's standing ankle-deep in the water, laughing at me. The bandage around her neck is still stained red, but not so much that it needs to be changed. The wound is healing, but who knows about the damage and scarred tissue that the knife would leave behind. It's lucky that the storm blew her into our vicinity before it was too late.

"You were seriously going to pour water on my face?" I asked incredulously, standing up.

"I wasn't," she says, picking up our bag and swinging it over her shoulder. "Hurry up! It's time to go."

I huff and pick up the bones of one of the fish we are last night. I don't need a lot of food in the morning, just a taste of marrow from sucking on the bones. "Looks like you guys have been bonding while I was asleep."

"Not bonding," Nikki snaps. "Come on, let's go."

We walk for most of the morning, trudging along under the boiling heat. Eryn walks beside me like she did yesterday, but when we stop for lunch, she sits closer to Nikki and even asks her for some dried seaweed that Nikki was able to find earlier. Afterward, Eryn and I rest a little while Nikki heads off into the water to catch more fish. She stands in the water, waist-deep, holding her trident at the ready as she watches the water carefully. She quickly pistons her trident into the gentle waves, but when she pulls it back out, there's nothing speared on the prongs. She shakes her head in frustration.

"I'm going to go help her," I tell Eryn. "Keep lookout, okay?"

She nods and I grab my sword before wading into the water. By the time I reach her, she is turned around and glaring at me.

"What?" I ask. "I came to help."

"Never can resist an opportunity to help," she says, turning away.

I roll my eyes. "Are you still upset? I thought you too were getting along!"

Nikki tries to spear another fish, failing again. She growls and looks at me again, her deep green eyes glaring. "Can't you see that's the problem, Jason?"

I sigh. "Isn't better to help others and die then kill them and survive? Who can live with themselves after that?" When she doesn't answer, I turn to where Eryn is now puttering at the shore with her knife, perhaps trying to catch some fish too. "Would you really let a fifteen year old girl die a painful-"

"Just shut up!" Nikki hisses. "Shut up already! Won't you just-just-"

Then she suddenly pulls me in with her free hand for a kiss. She tastes like saltwater and seaweed, but I kiss back, my free hand resting at her waist.

Then she pulls away. Her brown hair falls down her back in wet waves as her seagreen eyes search mine.

"Guys, I found some seaweed!"

We both turn to see eryn triumphantly holding up a mass of the stuff, her proud grin making my heart swell.

"Good job!" I answer. I turn back to Nikki, but she is once again focused on spearing a fish.

 _Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M_

Tiffany has been furious since the sky revealed that the Six girl was not the one that died in the storm. Instead, it was the girl from Three that we hadn't seen since the bloodbath, and the girl she and Hadrian waited for is still out there. She had spent the rest of the day fuming around the Cornucopia, volunteering to keep watch for most of the night.

I would be upset that she was being annoying if I didn't feel the same way.

She convinced me not to kill Hadrian when they returned after the storm, but I know she will come around eventually. He's dead whether or not i'm the one to kill him, and she must know it deep down. Right now, our focus needs to be on the other powerful tributes in the arena.

We replenish our strength overnight, then leave the next morning to hunt. The two of us head to the desert for the fourth day, but we find nothing except strange animal tracks in the sand. We come back to Hadrian at the Cornucopia empty-handed, our thirst for blood unquenched. Hadrian is waiting for us when we return, propped up inside the Cornucopia. He's still weak, barely able to stand on his own, but he seems to be improving, so Tiffany gives him the benefit of the doubt again. We spend the night recuperating, then head out for the western mountain the next morning. We haven't climbed either of the mountains yet, and it's about time we do. And I'm sure that by the time we get back, hadrian will either have died of his wounds or been killed by another tribute, who Tiffany and I will then have the pleasure of hunting.

By noon of the fifth day, Tiffany and I have found a path up the mountain and are ready to climb. It was either placed there by the Gamemakers or made by another tribute, but either way means that there are tributes up there for us to find.

"I understand why they made it difficult to climb," Tiffany complains. "But why is it so time-consuming? It seems such a shame to come all the way back down if we don't find anyone."

"Then we better find someone," I say in exasperation. "When did you start turning away from an opportunity to prove your worth?"

"I'm ready to kill, Tiger," she says darkly, her beautiful blonde hair, once so pristinely styled in the Capitolite way, now falling over her shoulders in a sweaty, dirty mess. Most of the makeup has been wiped off of her face as well, leaving behind her rarely seen true self. I always knew in training that Tiffany had a good shot at being a volunteer alongside me. I don't think she has what it takes to win, but I thought I'd at least get to see the bloodthirsty, cruel side of her that surely exists under her practiced, prissy exterior during the Games.

"So am I," I say. "You're the one that killed the pregnant lady. A two for one!"

Tiffany rolls her eyes. "Come on, we need to move."

We hike for a long time, until the sun is setting and we're not even halfway up the mountain. We have no choice but to continue, determined to make at least one kill in this outing. As darkness descends on the arena, we ascend the mountain, our weapons at the ready.

 _Tomas Fields (15)- D11M_

After the storm, I spent most of the day recovering from my toss into the ocean. I had nothing to do except curl up beside the cliff on the sand and hope the Gamemakers had mercy on me. The next morning, I had no idea where I was or where the tributes that I was tracking had gone. The ocean had beached me somewhere near the western mountain. Out in the water, several large rocks rise up and curve toward the sky. It's a strange formation that certainly didn't arrive there naturally. But it's beautiful and otherworldly, so I spend most of the next day sitting on the beach and watching the waves. The sky is beautiful in the morning and evening, and the water cools me off in the middle of the day, when the sun is at its peak.

My body feels weak after not drinking water for three days. I have to crawl to the ocean water to gather some up in the pan that I retrieved from the Cornucopia. The matches are still wet from my dunk into the ocean, so I lay them out in the sun to dry. My own skin is sunburned almost everywhere except where my clothes are, but I know it will just be a matter of time. I think the skin on the top of my head is also completely burned, even under my hair.

After the matches have dried, I effortlessly make a fire, thanks to all of my time at the fire station in training. I use some driftwood to start it, then set the pot over it with the lid inverted. I'm following what Drew told me to do in training, but I I've never tried it. I can barely keep my eyes open, my tongue dry and my head killing me.

About twenty minutes later, the glass in the middle of the pot is full of fresh drinking water. It's burning hot, but I can't control myself as I burn my hand to pick it up and gulp down as much water as possible. It's the tastiest drink I've ever had, even as hot as it is. I put the glass into the pot again, sitting back to relax. My hand is burning from where I touched the glass, and I cough from my dry throat. I drink more water and sigh in pain.

I wish Drew was here. And just so that he could teach me how to make fresh water. My plan to contact the older tributes was stupid, but I know why I almost did it. The loneliness in the arena isn't something that I thought would be affecting me so much. Death is a terrifying thought, but dying alone is even worse. Maybe I should have died alongside him, killed by the Careers. Maybe I can survive the Games and win, but even my own family disowned me. I've always been alone, and I will finish these Games entirely alone, no matter how they end.

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

I spent the entire storm in the shack, cowering under the bed in a way that I would be ashamed of if I weren't fearing for my life. Afterward, the shack's walls are leaning even more. I stay under the bed for a while longer just in case the walls collapse in on me, and eventually fall asleep there. Before the wind really started up, I had stood outside in the rain and drank some of the water, letting it gather in my cupped hands and pouring it into my mouth. It hadn't been a lot, but it had tasted wonderful after so long. I know the Capitol hates too many dehydration and starvation deaths in the Games, so maybe they were giving me a hand. I can't help but feel kind of grateful.

The next morning, I emerge from the shack and eat some more grapes. My jerky is running out, and probably won't last after tomorrow. I haven't seen too many animals up here, or anywhere in the desert from what I can see. This arena certainly isn't one that is filled with resources, but the Gamemakers don't want us to die without spectacle.

I spend the day sitting around and reading more of the book that I found under the bed. The animals that the writer describes are no longer here, but perhaps they are somewhere else in the arena. The people who lived in the shack had a great, comfortable life. It sounds like a paradise.

When the afternoon comes, I finally give in to my stomach's grumbling and go look for more grapes. It's great to have food, but I wish I could have some real meals like the people in the journal do. Maybe a nice roasted sheep.

I'm watching the orange and golden sands of the desert on the horizon when I hear strange rustling sounds behind me. I freeze and look over my shoulder, but I see nothing. Perhaps it was just a small animal. If so, it could be my dinner for tonight. I reach for my knife in my boot, eyes fixated on the rocks at the mouth of the path. My mouth waters at the idea of a nice, juicy ground squirrel.

But what pops out of the rocks isn't an animal, it's a teenage girl with wild eyes and even wilder blonde hair.

The girl from Five knocks me off my feet before I can retrieve my knife, her hands wrapping around my throat. I desperately try to grab at her arms, another hand reaching up to her face. My fingers reach to gouge out her eyes, but she jerks away, letting the pressure off my neck for a moment. I knee her in the stomach and flip her over, grappling for my knife in my boot with one hand. She yells in fury and tries to pry my hand away from her. I pull out my knife and try to bring it down, but she grabs my wrist and pushes it back up, her eyes wide and terrified.

I let up the pressure on the knife and pull it back up to bring it back down. She evades the blade and elbows me in the face, pushing me over. I spit out blood and try to scramble too my feet, but my opponent is already up and pulling me by my leg over to the cliff.

"No!" I yell, trying to twist away. "Stop!"

She pulls me with all of her might, and I dig my fingers and knife into the ground to resist her. She jerks my leg with such force I think she might dislocate it.

"Let me go!" I scream, kicking her in the face. She backs away and I pull my knife from the ground, getting to my feet. I wipe sweat and blood from my face and hold the blade up threateningly.

"Stop it!" I tell her. "We don't have to do this!"

"Yes, we do!" she hisses. She tries to stalk in a circle around me, but I just back up to keep away from the cliff.

"Fine!" I shout, gripping my knife tighter. If that's what she wants, then so be it.

I lunch forward, slashing at her chest. She jerks away, but trips slightly and her back is exposed. I plunge the knife into her back. She gasps loudly, thick blood quickly leaking out of the wound and forming a dark red ring over her jacket. I pull it out and watch in awe and horror as she turns to look at me with wide eyes. She reaches back to feel the wound, her hand coming away sticky with red blood.

Her eyes are filled with tears as she reaches out for me. I help support her and lay her down on the ground. She gurgles and some blood bubbles out of her mouth. As she chokes on her own blood, I realize I have some on my hands, and even some on my cheek somehow. I try to wipe it away, but I think I just smear it more.

The girl goes still after a few minutes, and her cannon goes off not long after.

 _This is the name of the game,_ I tell myself. _She asked for it._

I eventually move away, realizing the hovercraft can't retrieve her with me so close to her. I wander back down the path aways and watch as the silver craft appears out of nowhere and reaches down for her.

After a few minutes, a parachute floats down from the sky for me.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! We sadly lost Amelia this chapter.**

 **11th:** _ **Amelia Waltraud (16)-**_ **killed by Filly. Created by LongingForRomeo. Amelia had a long, crazy journey through these Games. I think that despite her young death, she was able to become the person she wanted to be. She was brave enough to confess her true parentage and her love for Elanor, as well as spend time with her brother. Caleb would have been proud of her, even though she didn't win.**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who is reading! Please leave a review to let me know what you think.**


	30. The Sixth Day: Disharmony

**Hey everyone! I wanted to make this announcement so no one get s confused; in the last chapter, I said the Careers were headed to the eastern mountain, but I actually meant the** _ **western**_ **mountain, which is closer to the Cornucopia. I realized this after reading all of your reviews about how the Careers were going to run into Filly, who is on the eastern mountain. I have changed the previous chapter so that it is correct, and I apologize. Directions are hard for me! I hope this isn't too disappointing or confusing. Thank you for understanding!**

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

Several hours have passed since the cannon boomed throughout the arena, but Tiffany and Tiger haven't returned. The thought of them out there killing weaker tributes, the audience sitting on the edge of their seats and rooting for them, makes me want to tear my hair out. I was hoping that they wouldn't have any success, and then come back for my help. I've been trying to walk around by myself, but I haven't had very much success. My ribs are killing me, and I know what a broken bone feels like. My right ankle feels a little twisted, but not bad. The worst is my shoulder, which has been double teamed by that little girl from Eight and the one from Five. I always knew that I might sustain a permanent injury in the Games, but it's another thing entirely to actually experience it. I know that if I win, my shoulder will never be the same.

 _When I win_ , I remind myself, shaking my head. It doesn't help to lose confidence now. Cassius won his Games by staying self-assured and not letting the audience see his weaknesses. I can still use the same strategy to win. The Capitol can't see me lose confidence, or they will lose confidence in me as well.

As the night drags on, I drift off to sleep despite my attempts to stay awake. I know that Tiffany and Tiger leaving me here is a test more than anything else; a test to see if I will survive the night, or any rogue tributes that come to the Cornucopia for supplies. I can't fall asleep and leave myself open to attack, but I don't want to be exhausted when Tiger and Tiffany return, if they ever do. I need to be eager and ready to hunt when they get back.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, I hear something that can't be real. The sound of a parachute floating down from the sky is simply my wishful thinking. But then I see the light twinkling of the silver as it floats down to the Cornucopia. I groan as I get to my feet and hobble over to it. I unscrew the lid and sigh in relief at the sight. Capitolite medicine, the really good stuff and not just the basic ones that are at the Cornucopia. Celia and Cato will have found the exact right formula and materials for my injuries. There is also a splint for my shoulder and a bind for my must be an incredibly expensive gift.

I notice the message that she attached and quickly grab it. _Don't let us down_ , it reads. I know what she means. Not just Celia, or Cato, or Cassius, but everyone in District Two. The Hunger Games are where we excel as a district, and we might be able to pull a back-to-back win if I pull through. That was always the plan, and they haven't given up hope. Celia and Cato could easily give up on me and let me die, but they haven't.

Just like it could be easy for me to lose my confidence and edge, but I won't.

I blow a kiss up to the sky and wink. "Thanks, Celia. And Cato, I guess."

The Capitol will love that. They always love a bit of flirtation between victors, and I am victor material. A few broken bones doesn't change that.

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

I sit on the path for a while longer, taking a few sips out of the water that I was sponsored. It doesn't taste as good as i expected, maybe because of the silver or tin bottle. It tastes metallic, like blood.

I know the sponsors only sent this to me because I finally killed someone. I probably impressed a few people by scoring an eight in training, but I haven't done anything in these Games except hide out and avoid everyone. The girl had came to me, trying to kill me, and I was simply defending myself. And I'm rewarded with water, to extend my life just a little longer so that the audience can see me in battle at least one more time.

 _Don't think about it,_ I tell myself. It's always been my motto. Why think about my mother's death when it can't be undone? Why try to imagine a world without the Hunger Games when it doesn't exist? Why try to avoid killing when it is inevitable?

I sigh as I take another swig of water. It tastes slightly better now. I have to return to my shack, even if I don't want to. I left all of my food there, along with the bed and shelter from the elements.

 _Just don't think about it_ , I chant inside my head as I walk past the place that I stabbed the girl- no, the place the girl was stabbed. It makes no difference that I did it. If I hadn't, then someone else would have. Some of her blood still stains the soil. I look away and head directly into my shack, eyes fixating on the knife in my hand. It's still covered in her blood. I don't want to wash it with my new water, but leaving it stained in dry blood is too much of a reminder of the deed that was done, even disrespectful. I try to wipe it off the wood of the shack, but only a little comes off.

I curl up to sleep on the bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. I have some kind of horrible dream where a demon tries to strangle me in my sleep, but I wake the next morning with the realization that it wasn't real. Of course it wasn't; the only real demons here are the Gamemakers. I shake my head lightly before rising to meet the rising sun.

I spend the morning sitting in silence on my bed, munching on what's left of my jerky and drinking some water. A strange fog has cleared from my mind. I guess I didn't realize just how much dehydration was affecting me. A headache that I didn't know I had has let up. I read some more of the journal, fantasizing about living as one of the people that is described in the pages. They remind me a little of District Ten, with all the livestock and the sense of community. Except the people here didn't have to rely on anyone else, the Capitol or any of the other districts. They grew their own food and made all of their own supplies. They were completely independent and without a reason to ever leave their little settlement.

I decide I don't have much reason to leave either, considering that I now have water, grapes for food, and shelter. It would be suicide to leave.

 _Eryn Winters (15)- D12F_

We spend the morning traveling farther along the shore, the day getting hotter and hotter. I do my best to keep up with Jason and Nikki. He hands me a drink of water whenever I start to slow down, and even Nikki shoots me some concerned glances. Jason's Capitolite medicine worked wonders for the injury in my collarbone, but I can feel the bones moving in a way that they shouldn't when I turn my head. I don't want to think about if they might be broken or splintered. I carry the knife that did it in my hands, ready to defend myself from anyone that might attack us. Last time, I let my guard down and made a fool of myself while cleaning in the river. The girl from Three was able to wound me so easily that I'm sure it was laughable for the Capitolites. I can't let it happen again.

I note the way Jason carries his sword, his arm hanging low but still poised for immediate action. I mimic it with my knife, ignoring the pain in my neck area. I can't let an injury stop me from winning and getting back to my family.

I'm still not sure why finding the edge of the arena is a good idea, but Nikki is set on it. I know that staying away from the action is always a safe bet, but I'm not sure how the forcefield itself will be useful. Maybe Nikki knows something from her Career training that will help us.

We stop for our usual lunch at midday; cooked fish and dried seaweed. I was never a huge fan of fish in the first place, but it's definitely starting to get old. I can't help but think about the honey-glazed roasted pigs that they served in the Capitol. It makes me eat faster just thinking about it.

"Maybe we should stay here for a while and rest," Jason says, sucking on a fish bone. He looks pointedly at Nikki, probably thinking that I can't see.

"We should really keep moving…" she trails off. "But maybe we could. It's hot."

I know they're worried about me. I can't help but wince in pain from every step that I take, even though my wound stopped bleeding a long time ago. I don't want to think about the possible permanent damage. My mind also feels foggy and my body is weak. I only drank a little bit of untreated water, but I don't know how much it has affected me. Each time I go to relieve myself away from Jason and Nikki, I have painful diarrhea that surely doesn't bode well for me.

"You should get some rest, Eryn," Nikki says, standing up with her trident at the ready. "I'm going to find us more food."

"Any chance we could get something sweet?" I ask helplessly. "And not fishy?"

"Well…" she and Jason meet eyes. "I guess I could try."

Nikki has been nicer and nicer to me since I joined the alliance, and I know Jason is the only reason, but it doesn't seem fake. Maybe she isn't a terrible person after all.

Jason joins her later, after spending some time with me. I watch them fish together, standing side by side in the water and laughing together. At least, Jason laughs while Nikki tries to hide her amusement. I've suspected that there was something going on between them since I met them, and I'm still not sure. They seem close, anyway, I'm glad I'm in an alliance that actually cares about each other.

They wade back to shore after about half an hour. Jason smiles at me as hands me a fistful of seaweed. "We'll dry this as we walk. Are you rested enough?"

"Yep," I say with a smile. As I stand, I can feel my collarbone painfully scraping against something else. I wince and roll my shoulder, trying not to seem too unperturbed. "Let's go!"

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

Tag and I arrive at the river near midday. Walking out in the open to the water's shore sets me on edge. Tag grips his knife tightly, and I clench my fists at my side as he kneels down to put some water in his canteen. We ran out this morning. I would rather not drink any unclean water, but we don't have much of a choice. When the lumberjacks were out in the forest, the foremen always told us never to drink from any streams that we see, no matter now clear the water. Although, that could be because the Capitol wants us to rely on them for water. The river looks crystal clear, so maybe it won't be too bad…

I hear a noise to our left, bringing my attention back to the present. I can't see anything, but we can't assume it isn't another tribute.

"Stay here," I say quietly to Tag, creeping into the water."

"What is it?" he asks.

There are a few patches of sparse brown grass on the other bank of the river. I prepare myself for the worst as I ready my fists. If someone jumps out with a weapon, I'll have to protect Tag with my bare hands.

The cat pops it's head out of the grass, squinting at me as if trying to figure out what I am. "Tag!" I yell, not moving an inch. "Dinner!"  
The cat has long ears and black tufts of fur protruding from the tops. It's a large size, much like the baby mountain cats that roam District Seven. We watch each other with curiosity.

"I'm coming!" Tag yells in answer. I hear him splashing after me in the water. "What do we do? Should I throw it?"

"No, I'll do it," I say. "Hand it to me." I reach out behind me for the knife. The thought of holding a knife, one so like a kitchen knife, makes me feel queasy inside. But I can't let Tag hurt himself. This cat isn't used to people being around, but that doesn't mean it won't attack when provoked.

Then, the blade suddenly whooshes past me and embeds itself into the hide of the animal. It yelps with pain, making a high-pitched shrieking sound. It immediately runs away, disappearing into the brush.

"Tag!" I roar. "What were you thinking?!"  
He runs past me with a quick, "Sorry!"

I have no choice but to follow them. The cat's trail of blood is obvious on the dirt, which eagerly soaks up the moisture. I find Tag waiting at the base of the eastern mountain, the carcass of the cat in his arms. It's almost half his size, and he looks like a little kid holding a trophy with his huge grin.

"Dinner is served!" he says happily.

"That was incredibly irresponsible," I hiss at him. "What if you had missed and it attacked you? What if you hit me instead?"

"I have perfect aim," he says proudly. "Well, maybe not perfect. I was aiming for it's head. But still."

"You should have let me do it," I say grumpily.

"Please. I know you don't like using weapons." He holds the cat up higher for me to take. "So I just did it. Let's get this thing skinned, shall we?"  
I can't deny that the idea of having some real food other than starchy apples makes my stomach growl. But we can't do it here.

"We need to find somewhere safer," I say, glancing around. "We shouldn't be out in the open like this. Anyone could see us."

"Look there," he says, pointing. There's an entrance to a cave not too far away. We could light a fire in there at night and no one would see."  
"We can check it out," I say hesitantly. "But we need to be careful. It could be a trap."

Tag rolls his eyes. "Or it could be a good place to hide. Come on, Seb."

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

The mountain, it turns out was a bust. The trek was long and arduous, and by the time we reach the top, when the moon is the highest in the sky, Tiger and I have almost ran out of water. Sometime just before sunset, a cannon goes booms throughout the arena. I can't help but hope that it is Hadrian, finally out of our hair, but it's the girl from Five's face who appears in the sky an hour or so later.

"That's the girl we trapped on the mountain," I say with a pout.

"Maybe she died of her injuries," Tiger says, sounding disinterested.

We're taking a few hours to rest and review our options.

"We can't go back to the Cornucopia until we make a kill," Tiger growls, wiping sweat from his brow. His green eyes are narrowed in annoyance.

"We need to stock up on food and water," I remind him.

"And then immediately come back this way?" he asks. "We need to head down to the beach. We can find food there."

That might not be true, but I understand his sentiment. We have to accomplish something in our outings. I've only killed two tributes these whole Games, and there's only ten of us left. District One needs to prove itself as the best of the Careers once and for all, and running around in the desert with our heads cut off isn't going to help with that, even if we are the only strong Careers left.

"Fine," I say. Even if we go hungry, finding a tribute to kill will make up for it.

After sleeping for a few hours, we're up again at sunrise. Climbing back down the mountain takes nearly all day, but it's easier than going up. I keep my eyes peeled just in case we missed something on our previous journey, but there still isn't a lot to see. Sparse bushes, a few fruit trees every now and then to keep us sustained. I take a few to put in my backpack for later. We don't know how long we will be away from our supplies.

We don't take any rests on our way down, marching on until the sun is set again and we are still moving. I munch on a peach as we hike, the juice running down my face. I try to wipe it away, but it only makes my hands sticky. It's frustrating how I can't present myself how I want in the arena, but I suppose that's part of the fun for the audience. Getting to see the real person underneath all the Capitolite makeup.

By the time we reach the bottom of the mountain, the stars are fully out, twinkling merrily at us. We stop for just a few minutes to make a game plan.

"We should head down to the river," I say. "And climb down at the waterfall. That's how you did it before, right?"  
"That's what I did before, and Willow died," Tiger huffs. "We need to have the higher ground on the cliff, so we can see the beach and anyone that's on it."

"And then what? Just jump off when we see someone?"

"We can climb down quietly, Tiffany," he snaps. "It doesn't have to be that dramatic."

"Alright," I say, rolling my eyes. "Which way are we headed, then? West?"

"There has to be someone over there," Tiger says. I nod. The arena seems so open and barren that it would be easy to find other tributes, but it seems they've all hidden themselves exceptionally well. Perhaps there are other hiding places like the caves under the eastern mountain. Or perhaps, they are waiting for us down by the beach.

"We need to look for fires," I remind Tiger as we begin jogging. "Or any movement. If we see anything, get low to the ground so they can't spot us. It's dark, but there might be a lookout, or they might not even be sleeping. We're easier to see up here."

"I've had the same training you did," Tiger grumbles. "Just stay quiet. Let's do this."

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

The cave system is strangely dark and quiet, even more than a barren desert at night. We end up staying close to the mouth since the interior of the cave system is far too dark to see anything, and we have no idea what could be in there. If only we had some kind of flashlight, or matches.

The water we gathered from the river tastes horrible, but the cat I killed is delicious. Seb talked me through how to skin it and slice it up, and then we made a fire with a few rocks and sticks outside the cave and left them over the fire to cook. They're still slightly undercooked from the weak fire a few hours later, but I can't complain. I'm just glad to have real food.

The flesh is chewy and dry, sticking to the roof of my mouth. I take another swig of water and wipe my mouth. Seb is silent beside me, watching the arena intently. We decided that if we see anyone, we will run further into the caves, not bothering to put out the remnants of our dying fire, nothing more than a few embers. They probably won't even see it, since the smoke doesn't have anywhere to rise to except the roof of the cave. If we run right into a trap set by the Gamemakers or another tribute, then so be it. Hopefully we will be able to escape and our pursuers would get the worst of it.

All this talk and worries about traps have set my brain in motion, but I haven't had the courage to tell Seb. This cave sure would be a nice place for a trap, even if there isn't one set yet.

"Seb," I say.

He turns to look at me with a frown. "What is it?"

"I've been thinking… about traps."

"We can't go farther in, at least not until morning," Seb says sharply, turning back to the scene before us.

"I don't mean about exploring the caves. I think we should set our own."

I can see him frowning even more in the moonlight. "What do you mean?"

"Here, in the entrance to the cave. We have all of this animal hide-" I lift up the bloody skin and fur of our dinner. "And nothing else to do with it. I can whip up a nice trap in no time with this, some sticks, a fire to draw people in-"

"And some rope," he finishes. "We don't have any, Tag. Just leave it be. We don't need to go around inviting people to our hideout."

"You always shut me down before I can even explain it to you!" I say angrily. "Who was it that saved you after the storm? Who killed that cat? Who carries the knife because you don't want to? You did the same thing to Sock before she-"

I stop before I'll say something I regret, blinking tears away from my eyes. "Why should I do things your way? We haven't made one kill yet."

"You want to make a kill?" Seb says dangerously. "It's not like killing a wild animal."

"At least I want to do something!" I say, my voice louder than I know it should be, but I can't quiet down. "We wouldn't have eaten tonight if it wasn't for me. And Sock might still be alive if you didn't yell at her so much."

"Sock died because she didn't listen to me!" Seb roars. "And so will you if you keep acting without thinking. You're not invincible."

" _You're_ the one who isn't thinking," I say through gritted teeth. "This is the Hunger Games, and you're trying to tell me not to take risks. Without risk, we'll die. It's plain and simple."

"There's a difference between attacking a tribute we see and luring one to us. It's just not safe, Tag!"  
"That's because you've already resigned yourself to death, haven't you?" I say quietly. "Don't think I haven't realized it. You volunteered for- who? Your girlfriend's brother? And now you want to protect me too. But newsflash- I'm not some poor little Reaped boy. I don't need protecting!"

He watches me silently in the darkness for a few moments. My heart is pounding in my chest. Did I just reveal my secret? I pore over my words inside my mind. No, I'm fine. Surely the Capitol won't take them literally.

"Whatever. Just get to sleep, I'll take first watch."

I sigh and lean back against the wall of the cave. At least Seb isn't kicking me out of the alliance. He'll come around.

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (18)- D4F_

For some reason, I'm not too upset when Jason convinces me that we need to rest for the evening. I would prefer to keep moving, especially with how slow we've been going; but he insists that Eryn needs her rest. She's been slowing down more and more throughout the day, and I can't help but suspect that she's has some kind of infection. Jason changes her bandage as the sun sets over the water, reflecting rich shades of purple, orange, and red. It reminds me so much of home that I could be on the beaches of District Four right now, breathing in the salty, fishy air.

"Nikki!" Jason calls me over to our little camp. "Can you come make a fire?"

"You still don't know how?" I reprimand him playfully. "It's simple."

"For you," he says under his breath. "Eryn is cold."

I glance at her as I strike her knife over a stone we found earlier that is perfect for fire-making. The sparks fly onto the pile of twigs beneath it, but don't quite catch flame yet. Eryn is looking rather gaunt, her under eyes sunken in and her skin sallow. But she smiles when I look at her, and I smile back. I'm surprised at the genuine pity that tugs at my heart. I thought I had eradicated such emotions before entering the arena. But Jason and Eryn have reopened my old wounds and put my mind in a tizzy.

"I'm going to make some more water," Jason says, heading over to the water's edge. I'm left alone with Eryn, but it doesn't annoy me as much as it used to. It's nice to have a friend. I was never really able to at home.

The sparks from the stone finally catch the driftwood, and a the flame instantly starts burning. We won't have a lot of time before the fire burns out, and we don't want the smoke to attract other tributes, either, so I quickly set out the fish and seaweed I gathered a few minutes ago to cook, then sit down next to Eryn.

I watch Jason's silhouette as he gathers water for us. I've been able to make boil the water using our water bottle and Eryn's so that we have drinkable seawater. It isn't perfect by any means, but it's enough to keep us hydrated.

"Jason is very kind," Eryn says softly.

"Yes, he is," I say.

"And handsome, wouldn't you say?"

"Well…" I glance over at her so see her smiling at me cheekily. "I suppose," I say begrudgingly.

She laughs, the sound refreshing and cheerful. "I'm tired. I'll eat in the morning, okay?"

"Okay," I say as she makes herself a little bed in the sand and lays down. She must be exhausted if she doesn't even want to eat. I sigh nervously as Jason returns from the water. His black hair is wild from the wind. He sets up the two bottles the way I instructed him, with the bigger one inside the other and a lid covering them. He places them over the fire and plops down next to me.

"Tired," he yawns.

"You would make an awful Peacekeeper," I say.

He laughs and scoots closer to me. I lean over to give him a small peck on the lips, and his smile is blinding. "We should get to sleep."

"You should. I'm keeping watch."

"Fine. Wake me at midnight."

He reclines next to me, wrapping his jacket around himself more securely. I place one hand on his shoulder and watch the waves creep closer and closer. Maybe Eryn and I could prank Jason tomorrow like we tried to do before. I don't think it would be too upset.

I eat some of the fish once it's cooked, then set the rest aside for Jason and Eryn. Once the moon is at its peak, I shake Jason awake and take his place in the sand. He gives me a kiss before turning away, and I have to keep a giddy smile off my face.

I drift off to sleep, only to be awoken roughly by the sound of Jason's panicked voice.

"Nikki, wake up!"

I immediately sit up, wiping my eyes. "What? I ask groggily. "What's going on?"

But I realize it before he can answer. There are two tributes raging toward us, barely visible in the moonlight. I can tell who they are by their gaits and blonde heads of hair.

"Get Eryn," I instruct Jason, grabbing my trident and getting to my feet. I head out to meet them halfway, smirking as one of them slows. The other continues until I can see his face properly, his green eyes glinting with anger.

"We finally meet again," I say, more for the Capitol than anything else.

"You'll regret leaving us in the first place once I chop your head off," Tiger sneers, raising his axe. I keep my trident at the ready, somersaulting away from his blow. I lunge toward him while he's off balance, but he also dodges my attack, slashing at my back. I duck just in time, and his axe slides over my head and chops off a few hairs. I stand up quickly and lunge again, and he loses his balance.

"Nikki!" I look over my shoulder desperately. Jason is clashing his sword against Tiffany's. Eryn is trying to run away, hands at her neck injury. Jason parries Tiffany's blow, but her sword clangs down again on his, pushing with all her might. I know he's strong, but she's strong as well. I have to get over there and help him.

I hear Tiger's roar before I turn back around, just in time to avoid his axe, though the blade cuts against my cheekbone. I immediately feel blood trickle down my face, pain making me move faster. My heart pounds as I lunge again, trying to trip him again with my feet. He manages to stay upright, throwing his axe my way. It misses and buries itself into the ground. He dodges my attack again, so I take the opportunity to run back to Jason.

"Jason!" I yell. He's standing in front of Eryn, who is cowering in the sand.

His eyes meet mine just as Tiffany shoves her sword into his stomach. He doubles over, his face alight with pain. Blood dribbles out of his mouth as he falls onto the sand. Tiffany jerks her sword out of his middle, and I scream with fury.

My trident misses her by a hair, so I tackle her down instead, punching her across the face. I can feel her grappling for her sword, but I strike her against the face again and grab it myself. I bring it up to pierce through her, my heart pounding in my ears.

"Nikki!" I look over and see Tiger planting his axe into Eryn's chest, her blood spraying over his face.

Tiffany kicks my groin and pushes me over, grabbing her sword. I take my trident and parry her blow, kicking her away and realizing I can't take them both on myself. I look at Jason, whose eyes are now still and unseeing. Eryn is gasping for air, choking on her own blood.

 _I'm sorry_ , I tell them. I get to my feet and start to sprint. What choice do I have? I'm not ready to die yet.

I hear Tiffany and Tiger storming after me, but I know I'm faster than either of them. Tears fill my eyes, but I shake them away. I have to do this for Jason and Eryn.

 **Hello everyone! We're down to the final eight! We lost two tributes this chapter.**

 **10th:** _ **Jason Sparks (18)- D6M-**_ **killed by Tiffany. Created by domgk115. Jason was an undeniable good person, and he died protecting an ally, which I think is a proper send off for his character. He was always fun to write, whether from his own perspective or someone else's. District Six is surely very proud of him, even if he didn't win.**

 **9th:** _ **Eryn Winters (15)- D12F-**_ **killed by Tiger. Created by Krystal Fox. Eryn was very sweet and certainly didn't deserve to be Reaped like so many tributes in the Hunger Games. But she made friends and her family will remember her well, and her twin sister will miss her.**

 **For our next chapter, we will return to the Districts and Capitol for the interviews of the families of the Final Eight. So expect to see some characters that we haven't seen since the Reapings!**

 **I hope everyone has a great week! Please leave a review if you enjoyed the chapter.**


	31. The Final Eight

_Marcelle Agelasta (25)- Gamemaker_

The crisp night air outside the Gamemaking Center is a welcome relief of stress. I grab a shot from one of the Avoxes that are walking around, throwing it back with a whoop.

"We've done it, Rowan!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air. "The Final Eight are here!"

He catches me before I fall into him. "They are. But you know that this means the real work is just beginning."

"I'm not an idiot," I say, hurt. "But we have cause to celebrate. Exactly eight tributes!"

We're lucky only two tributes died in the latest battle. Sometimes, we accidentally end up with a final seven or even a final six due to too many tributes dying at once. Camera crews have been waiting in the districts since the Reaping, ready to interview the final eights' families. We need to have them air before any more deaths happen. I'm sure Bellona is beside herself trying to churn the interviews out on time. The Capitol will be eagerly awaiting them as well, maybe even staying up all night as not to miss them on their first airing.

"I am glad, don't get me wrong," he says with a smile. "But you might want to lay off the alcohol. We won't be taking any time off for a few more days, at least. You don't want to be hungover, do you?"

"I'll be fine," I say, my words a little slurred. "My employees can take care of our dear sponsors." I can't help but spit out the words bitterly. Dealing with the sponsors hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be, but I would never tell anyone that. Regardless of the enjoyability of the work, the station of head of sponsorship is low on the totem pole of Gamemaking. Only those who are incompetent in the Gamemaking room are sent to take sponsorships.

"Rowan?" Bellona's assistant's feather-like voice asks. Her pale blue eyes and long eyelashes blinking slowly and delicately. "Miss Presque would like to see you."

Rowan puffs out his chest. "Alright. I'll be right there."

I narrow my eyes and feel the muscles tighten in my face, despite all of the surgeries and pink dye that makes my face pull tight. What could Bellona have to talk to the head of statistics instead of me, the head of sponsorship? Back in school, and when we first joined the Gamemaking Academy, Bellona and I were partners in crime. She was always the more ambitious of us, but we were on equal footing and always needed the other one's input. Now that she's queen bee, everyone is submitted to her command, even me. It seems she's got a bloated head since her promotion.

I follow Rowan and Aelia inside the building, stumbling past the rest of the celebrating Gamemakers. I can see the flashes of the paparazzi at the street, trying to catch a glimpse of us here on the balcony. I'm sure that the pictures and videos will show up in the news tomorrow morning. The Center is mostly empty inside aside from those that are responsible for monitoring the cameras and picking what is shown live to the audience. And of course, Bellona and Rowan are talking animatedly in her office. On screen, replays of the latest deaths are playing. The pair from One have bloodlust and determination in their eyes. Everyone in the Capitol is predicting a One win, and I can't say I blame them.

I glance over at Bellona's office again. I wish I could hear what they're saying, but the glass walls are soundproof. Aelia opens the door and walks out to the main area, her long heels clicking against the spotless floor. The sprawling blue tattoo on her face and neck glows in the light of the many screens.

"What are they talking about?" I ask, trying to sound unconcerned.

She glances at me, looking up and down at my sun-themed outfit. During the Games, I like to wear outfits that correspond to the arena. Today is a dark orange dress and jacket with a large sun decoration in my hair, my makeup down to make me glow and shimmer.

"I believe they're discussing the Eleven boy's family," she says, sounding disinterested.

I'm surprised she told me anything at all, but I keep my tone neutral. "Do they have rebellious sentiments as well?"

"No. They don't want to do the interview is all."

Ah. That happens occasionally with the families. I don't really understand why; I would imagine they would be proud that their child has made it to the final eight and want to share their support. "What does that have to do with statistics?"

"Miss Presque wants to know what his odds of winning are," Aelia says, walking to the coffeemaker and starting a new pot. "If he doesn't have many fans, not getting interviews from his family isn't a huge deal. But apparently he's actually received quite a few sponsors."

"I know that!" I exclaim, losing my balance and almost falling over. I catch myself on a chair and glare at the pair, still holed up in the office. "The sponsors like his take no shit attitude and the story about his father! I could have told her that."

In the corner of the room, Aleia raises a barely there eyebrow at me. "Maybe she thought you were busy. After the interview come out, there will be lots of sponsorships pouring in. Are you ready for it?"  
I bristle at her tone. I don't need an _assistant_ asking me if I'm doing my job correctly. "I can handle it," I snap. I plop down into my chair and pull up the feeds of the tributes in the arena. The audience is currently being shown the Nicolette girl running down the beach, the night too dark to really make out much of her face. The Careers lost sight of her very quickly after she ran away, but they haven't given up looking for her, still combing the beach for their opponent. Their bloodlust hasn't been sated, it seems.

There are also feeds of the street parties that are happening all over the Capitol, of rabid fans celebrating their favorites making it into the final eight. I watch the partygoers intensely, noticing that many are wearing sapphire necklaces similar to Tiffany Silk's token in the arena. It seems it's become a commodity for One fans. Others have dyed parts of their hair purple like the Eight boy. Twelve-year olds don't often make it far in the Games, but I'm starting to suspect we may be looking at our youngest ever victor. Tag Nylon has his admirers and the training score to pull it off if he so desires.

The fact that the Peacekeeper had to die is a shame. He would have made a fine victor, especially since he was from Six. He would have been a call to Peacekeeping for young people all over Panem, a nice poster boy for the military. But I guess it just wasn't written in the stars. As for the Twelve girl, I don't think anyone really expected her to win or that she had any die-hard fans, so not as much of a loss there.

As I switch back to watching the arena, watching as the Cato boy from Two tries to walk with his new splints. He's doing much better now that his mentors have finally delivered the medicine he needed. He might actually recover and pull off the win. He'll surely have irrefutable damage to his back and possibly his shoulder, but that is expected of any Hunger Games victor. In the background, I hear Aelia pouring two cups of coffee, then the clicking of her heels as she makes her way back to the Head Gamemaker's office. I watch out the corner of my eye as she hands Bellona her coffee, and then the other to Rowan, their mouths moving quickly as Bellona shows him something on her tablet. What could they be talking about?

 _Rowan Loukios (28)- Gamemaker_

As I blow on my coffee to cool it, Bellona pulls up the interview of Cassius Cato. The unedited interviews have been arriving slowly for the past ten minutes, ready for Bellona's scrutiny. Cassius is standing standing in what looks like his living room in Victor's Village, the chandeliers on their highest setting and his plush velvet couch spotless. An uncomfortable smile is on his face, which isn't the norm for our beloved Cassius. Like most male victors from the masonry district, the Capitol loves Cassius for his confidence, bloodlust, and physical strength. He's never given a bad interview or dropped his cocky persona in front of any cameras, even when he must have been tired of being bombarded by paparazzi and fans. I always thought he was just a fantastic actor, but watching him talk about his younger brother makes me wonder if he just enjoys positive attention.

"I have full confidence that Hadrian will make a full recovery," he says with an unconvincing smile. "He's the best trainee to come out of the Academy in years, and it's been a fantastic decade for District Two as it is. He'll come back home and make us all proud."

"Do you think he can match the strengths of the tributes from One?" the interviewer asks softly behind the camera. Before the interviews are televised, the actual question will be cut out, but we're watching the unedited clip.

Cassius' smile falters a little at the question, his face hardening. "I have no doubt that he will dominate all of his opponents. I have heard that Tiger Emerald is the cousin of one of the tributes I killed, Blush Emerald. And I am hear to say that I don't regret killing her, and Hadrian won't regret killing Tiger when the time comes." The grin returns to his face, looking more real than ever. "But of course, District Two will remain on good terms with One and hope to ally with them in next year's Games."

Apparently, that was enough footage for the camera crew, who shuts off the camera.

"District One won't be happy," I murmur.

"They'll forget about it by next year," Bellona dismisses me. "The Career districts know they need each other to stay alive. Besides, the audience loves a little drama."  
"This could backfire on us," I try to explain as the camera starts up again, this time showing Hadrian's parents on the couch. "Studies show that when Career districts have feuds before the final eight, the next Games are almost always affected by it."

"It's a friendly rivalry," Bellona says, green eyes fixed on the screen. "Now watch."

"We're very proud of Hadrian and everything that he's accomplished," Hadrian's mother says. Her hands are clasped in her lap, her ankles crossed. It's easy to tell she's unused to giving this kind of interview, where he son is in bad shape instead of a favorite to win.

"With determination and hard work, he can pull himself back up," his father says seriously, as if Hadrian himself would hear these words in the arena. "He just needs to remember why he's there and what he's working towards. "He's a good boy. He'll be back home with us in no time."

The camera shuts off again. It's not much to work with, but the words themselves hold enough meaning to make up for it. I've worked as a Gamemaker long enough to know that Hadrian's parents are now grappling with the realization that their son may die in the arena. Sibling Careers are quite common, but it's not often that more than one wins. When the second one finds themselves in a tight spot, the family usually has a hard time reconciling their defeat with their other child's victory.

"He could still win," is all I say. "He's powerful. And Celia and Cato believe in him if they sent him all of those supplies."

"None of the tributes should be counted out," Bellona replies smoothly, transitioning to another interview. This one is of Tiffany Silk's family. Her parents and sister are sitting in what looks like a jewelry shop. The Capitol loved Tiffany's story about her family's jewelry business, so Bellona must have told the camera crew to film there. In the background, we can see the work tables that are covered in metal and precious jewels. I know that their business must be booming right now. They probably hardly have time to watch the Games.

"Tiffany is doing so well, and we can only hope she continues on her path to victory!" he father say with a grin. Unlike the Catos, the Silks seem relaxed and confident, speaking easily to the camera. "We always knew that she was destined for greatness, and she's the hardest working out of all the tributes in the arena."

"Once she comes home, I want Tiffany to take me to the Capitol to buy all the dresses I want," Tiffany's sister butts in. "I want the silver one."

I smile, remembering Tiffany's outfit for her interview with Flickerman.

The girl's mother shushes her before turning to the camera and smiling sweetly. "Tiffany is the best daughter we could ask for. Except for you of course, Kara," she adds when the girl huffs in annoyance. "And we're so glad that everyone loves the necklace I made for her, but please, slow down the orders!" she laughs, blue eyes twinkling. "I can't make them fast enough!"

The screen cuts to black. It's a pleasant interview, no doubt safe for broadcasting. Tiffany would be a safe victor as well, a natural contender, and a fan favorite. The odds are in her favor.

The next interview puts us right back in the thick of the controversy, as Tiger Emerald's family appear on-screen. Tiger, the Reaped Career. Also a fan favorite, but who is becoming increasingly volatile and aggressive toward Districts Two and Four. His pure aggression and attractiveness earned him plenty of followers in the Capitol, but we have it on good authority that his parents don't approve of his choice to volunteer… or rather, prevent someone from volunteering for him. Those are always tough to interview, since we can't have them seem disapproving of the Games. It complicates it further that they are trainers at the One Academy.

Tiger's family is standing in the Academy's gymnasium as if they are in the middle of a training session, even though it's the middle of the night. They're dressed in their training garb, his mother holding a helmet underneath her arm, her blond hair pulled up in a ponytail. His father has a sword slung over his shoulder and an uncomfortable smile on his face. When they start talking, it's clear that they aren't used to being in the spotlight. Trainers that aren't victors are usually pushed to the side and have to work in the background with the trainees.

"How do you feel about Tiger's time so far in the Seventy-Seventh Hunger Games?" the interviewer asks quietly.

"Tiger has impressed us so much," his mother says, almost sounding choked up. It contrasts significantly with her appearance of a warrior. "We are so proud of him and hope for the best."

"He has proven himself very capable," his father adds. "We couldn't ask for a better son."

"How do you feel about him being Reaped? Were you worried that someone might volunteer in his place?"

The Emeralds share a panicked look. I wonder if they will reveal that they didn't want him to volunteer. But Tiger's father just swallows nervously and says, "Everyone knew that he was the best man for the job. That's why no one volunteered."

Not exactly an answer to the question, but the interviewer is apparently satisfied, asking next what Tiger is like outside of the arena.

"Tiger has always been a sweet, kind boy," his mother says, almost tearful again. "We want nothing more than for him to return to us."

The screen goes black again. Tiger's parents certainly don't seem like someone who would rear such a cold, bloodthirsty child, but their description of him seems off as well. Perhaps they are naive to the parts of him they don't like, or maybe they will say anything that the think will help bring him home. They love him, that much is clear.

Tiger's sister is shown next, her eyes and nose very similar to his. "Tiger was acting weird before he left for the Games, so I hope when he comes back, he'll be back to normal," Gemma says matter-of-factly.

"Weird in what way?" the interviewer asks eagerly.

"Like… arguing all the time. And not listening to mom and dad. But maybe he was just practicing for the Games, so I don't know. I guess I'll see when I start training this summer."  
"You're starting training? Did Tiger suggest that to you?"

"I've always wanted to," Gemma says with a toothy smile. "I'm starting a little late, but that's what my parents wanted me to do. I can't wait!"  
The interview ends there, and I sit back in my chair with a huff. "Well, that's bound to give people something to talk about that isn't the rivalry."

"Yes, but we can't have the parents giving us problems," Bellona says, eyes narrowed. I can tell she's thinking through all of the possible reactions to Gemma's words. "They are trying their best to be compliant now, but if they start giving us problems, we'll need to have them eliminated."

I laugh a little. "Well, I'm not the one you should talk to about that."

Her eyes flicker up to me, and a fog that settled over them disappears. "I suppose you're right."

The screen lights up again, this time with a message from the Eleven camera crew.

"The Fields boy's interviews," she says lowly. "Watch it with me, Rowan."

I sigh, thinking about all the work I could be doing right now, but I can't refuse her. I don't really know why she's chosen me for this task, but there must be a reason.

The Fields family isn't light-skinned like Tomas himself. Their skin is more like most of those in District Eleven, and their large family is all fit into one frame outside of what looks like their house. The night is dark, but a few candles and some heavy duty lights illuminate the scene. In the background, one can hear the sounds of crickets and insects chirping. A woman and four siblings are present, but it doesn't look like the father is anywhere in sight.

"Our Tomas is so brave and sweet," his mother says, her lip trembling. "He deserves to win and be happy after everything I've put him through."

"Tomas said that he was born of an affair," the interviewer says. "And your husband isn't here. Did he find out from watching the Games?"  
"He already knew." The woman's face scrunches, a few tears trailing down her cheeks. "I've done so many things that I regret, but I don't regret having Tomas in the least little bit. He's one of my children, and I love him more than anything, even if Franklin doesn't approve."

"What do you think Tomas' father would say if he was here?"

She sniffles. "I don't know. I didn't know him very well. He was kind and helpful, but he went back to District Four before I even knew I was pregnant. I just hope Tomas knows that this is his home, not District Four. That man may be his biological father, but we are his family. All we want is for him to return."

"Okay," the interviewer says. "What about you?" they direct at the oldest sibling, a girl who looks like she's in her early twenties. "Are you welcoming a new member of your family soon?"

The girls rests a hand on her swollen belly. "Yes. I'm going to name the baby after Tomas if he… doesn't win," she says, also sounding choked up. "I can just tell he's a boy. And dad will come around once he's born, and he'll remember what Tomas was like as a child. He might not be his father, but he still loves him deep down. I know it."

"Tomas should see what his friend Jonathan is publishing in the papers about him," another one of Tomas' siblings pipes up, a teenage boy. His gaunt frame is mostly hidden out of sight of the camera, but his eyes are lit with fear, almost as if he's afraid he will be punished for speaking up. "There are new articles everyday for what he did that day in the arena. And he posts adds so that people will help sponsor him."

"Who is this friend?"

"He runs the newspaper here," the pregnant girl explains. "Tomas works for him."

"Everyone is really hoping that he will win," their mother says with a sad smile. "We haven't had a lot of victors in the past, but we're hoping that this will be our year."

It's a lackluster attempt at sportsmanship, but it can be edited to appear more enthusiastic. Regardless, there's a lot of good material, and not much that we have to worry about.

"I told you everything would be fine," I say, sitting back with a grin. "You tend to worry too much."

"This is good," Bellona agrees, a rare smile adorning her face as well. "They had him choose a side, instead of insinuating unification with Four… and they supported district pride. Perhaps this kid won't give us as much trouble as I thought."

"Miss Presque?"

We turn to see Aelia standing in the doorway, her long eyelashes fluttering. She looks like a fairy with her pale skin and light blue tattoos.

"What is it, Aelia?"

"The other statisticians are wondering where Mr. Loukios is. Should I tell them, or just say that he's unavailable?"

"I should go if they're looking for me," I say, standing and brushing off my white Gamemaking suit. "Call for me if you need anything further."

"Yes, yes," Bellona says, waving me away. Her eyes are fixed on the screen, where another interview is loading.

I follow Aelia out of the office and back into the main Gamemaking room, where most of the Gamemakers have returned back to their stations. I glance on the main screen and see that the girl from Four has surely escaped her pursuers. She's found her way back to where they found her before, at the large rock formations in the water just off the beach. Tiffany and Tiger are still attempting to find her, but they are still on the other side of the waterfall, scouring every inch of the beach. It's been so long that they must know their efforts will be futile.

 _Bellona Presque (25)- Head Gamemaker_

After Rowan leaves, I have no choice other than to wait for the rest of the interviews to arrive. I gave the camera crews strict deadlines for sending me their interviews, but there is still plenty of time. The actual time consuming process will be editing the interviews to make them safe for television. Some of them won't require too many touch ups or cuts, but the outer districts usually need quite a bit of doctoring.

I sip at my coffee, feeling the caffeine enter my bloodstream and give me some artificial energy. When was the last time I slept? I've just gotten a few hours in the past week. Everyone here is making sacrifices for the Games, of course, but I never realized just how exhausting being Head Gamemaker could be. I don't really mind the lack of sleep, per se, but it makes my brain slower and my attention span shorter. I need to be at the top of my game for the coming weeks.

My tablet screen lights up with a notification. I lean forward, setting my mug on the glass table and clicking it eagerly. The screen shows a family of four sitting in a wooden house, in front of a crudely made dinner table. Through the window, one can see the everlasting green of District Seven. I recognize the children from the Reaping; the blonde teenage girl and her younger brother, whose shoulder she is gripping tightly.

"What do you think of Sebastian's performance in the Games thus far?"

I can see the girl's eyes hardening, but her words contrast her expression. "Seb is proving to everyone that he is a worthy victor. We're very proud of him."

"We all miss him very much," Alexis' mother says softly. "He's not our son, but he might as well be."

"Did Seb tell you what happened to his real parents?" the interviewer asks, sparing no time to get right into the tough topics.

"Tell us?" the father huffs. "He came to us right after it happened. Everyone knew that it was him who did it, but no one cared. Sebastian's father wasn't exactly well-liked around the district."

"Some people think that Sebastian is unpredictable or even psychopathic," the interviewer says. "What do you think of that?"

"Seb is not a psychopath," Alexis hisses. "He's sweet and generous. He did what he had to do to avenge his mother, and he volunteered to save Benji's life. And he just wants to protect his ally, not hinder him from winning. Anyone who says otherwise just doesn't understand him."

"Seb is a nice person," Benji chimes in, his eyes wide. "He always helps me with my homework if I need it. And he's the best lumberjack in District Seven."

"Very well," the interviewer says, sounding pleased. The screen cuts to black. Not a bad interview, but the editors might decide to cut out the part about saving the boy's life. The current opinion in the Capitol is that Seb volunteered because he has a predisposition to kill, and that he might even kill his little ally if he keeps defying him. The theory makes for fascinating television, and is undoubtedly better than the truth of volunteering to save someone from the Hunger Games, but it will only work if Seb proves himself to be mentally stable. The country has a habit of adoring violent, unapologetic tributes, but disliking those that don't seem in control of their minds and bodies. The line is a thin one to walk. Perhaps this interview will shine a light on some of the more gentle aspects of Sebastian so the Capitol knows that he isn't a mindless killer.

A few minutes later, the next interview appears. I sigh and take another drink of coffee before clicking on this one. District Four has been keeping us busy this year, from de Luce's sight problems to the Anderson girl rejecting the Careers. I'm not surprised she's made it into the final eight, but we have to make sure that she won't cause any problems for us. There's no reason yet to believe that she will, but the mere fact that she left the Careers is a warning sign.

Nicolette's parents, the infamous Andersons, are standing in their lavish living room in Victor's Village. Behind them is their fireplace, decorated with solid gold emblems of District Four, the Capitol, and Panem. Photographs of past tributes that they have trained and mentored line the mantel, including some victors. The most notable is Finnick Odair, the youngest person to ever win the Hunger Games. Even though they did not mentor him in the Capitol, they still trained with him long and hard before he left, and they must be very proud. I let myself smile as I watch them prepare themselves to speak to the camera. They must miss the attention that they received in the Capitol after their Games, as well as after their wedding. They're considered Hunger Games legends, and for good reason. Joseph and Josephine Anderson, possibly the most lethal tributes to come out of District Four in all of Hunger Games history.

"Our daughter is the most capable of all the tributes in the arena this year," Josephine says without being prompted, her signature bright smile plastered to her face. "She was trained all her life by us, and studied at the Academy from all of District Four's legendary victors. She's a beautiful, ambitious, bloodthirsty woman. There's no doubt in our mind that she will win."

"Why do you think Nicolette abandoned the Careers?" the interviewer asks.

The couples faces fall a little, but they recover instantly. "If Nikki left the Careers, then she had a good reason," Joseph says confidently. "She probably knew that they weren't up to her standards, and she was proven right. The Careers haven't been as impressive as usual this year, and she knew she would be better off with a more capable tribute, such as the Six boy."

The pair have been doing this long enough that they know to walk the line between cooperation and competition with the other districts, and they do it well.

"Speaking of, what did you think of Jason Sparks, and their other laly Eryn Winters? Jason didn't seem like a very capable tribute after all, and Eryn didn't make a single kill before her death. How do you explain that?"

I can tell the questions are starting to discomfit the Andersons a bit, but they stand their ground. "Jason proved himself to be a strong tribute, he was just unlucky in their battle with District One," Josephine answers. "As for the girl, I don't think Nikki was too pleased about letting her in, but she was soft for the Sparks boy. It happens to the best of us," she laughs, looking at her husband adoringly. "But she get her revenge eventually."

"We are looking forward to it," Joseph adds with a smile.

The screen goes dark, and I nod my head, trying to wrap it around the implications of everything that was said. Surely it won't harm Nikki's chances in any way. I know she has a large fan base here in the Capitol due to her parentage and her romance with the Six boy. But now that he is dead, her primary source of entertainment will come from her actual performance, so she needs to kick it up a notch and show us her Career training.

To my surprise, the screen lights up again. I was informed that Nikki didn't have any close friends due to the intense nature of her training, but a boy her own age has just appeared on screen, wringing his hands nervously. It looks like he's standing outside the Academy.

"My name is Dareon, and I'm Nikki's boyfriend. I'm not upset that she cheated on me, I just ask that she comes back home and apologizes to me in the way that a woman should-"

"Are you really Nikki's boyfriend?" the interviewer asks suspiciously. "Her parents said she's never had one."

"They don't approve," the boy says, sticking out his chest. "But our love will prevail. We've only kissed once, well _almost_ kissed-"

"Get lost, kid," someone on the camera crew says in annoyance, flicking off the camera. I sigh and start to type out a message to the editors to cut all of that footage out. The kid might actually be her boyfriend, but the chances seem slim to me.

The next interview is for the twelve year old from Eight. His family is sitting in the kitchen of their house, which is filled with cast-iron pots and herbs hanging in the window. One can see the stars through the window, but lamps light up the room.

"What do you think of Tag's performance so far?"

The father swallows nervously. "Our sons are our main source of joy. We're so proud of Tag and what he's accomplished so far. We hope he comes home soon."

"What would you tell Tag if you could?"

"We would tell him to stay strong," his mother says. "He is so smart, and he has what it takes to be the youngest victor ever. He's going to be a Hunger Games legend once he wins."

"What about you?" the interviewer asks Tag's twin, Spool, gently.

The boy's face scrunches up, and for a second I wonder if he will cry. "I miss Tag. He's the best younger brother anyone could ask for. He's the mastermind behind everything that we do!" He bows his head.

"Everything that who does?"

The boy lifts up his head, smiling. "The Sock Knights."

The screen cuts to four or five tween boys sitting around a round table outside. More lights illuminate the yard and their grins.

"We're the Sock Knights!" Spool says proudly. "I'm our leader, Spool Nylon, but my brother Tag is the most intelligent, charismatic member of our group. We're committed to the old ideals of justice, chivalry, and innovation. Our primary goal is to work hard to support our families."  
"What kinds of things to you do?" the interviewer asks, sounding genuinely interested.

"Anything!" one of the other boys chirrups. "We've been making bandannas that are like the one that Tag has in the arena!" He pulls one out of his pocket and waves in front of the camera. "If anyone wants to buy an authentic Nylon bandanna, you can only get them here, at Sock Knights, Inc.!"

The screen goes black, leaving me with a small smile on my face. The kids are cute, that's for sure. They have a healthy interest in carving out their own success, which the Capitol will like. And Tag wouldn't be the worst kid to have as our first twelve-year old victor.

The last interview is the girl from Ten. Filly Marcoffe has only had a few moments of action in the Games so far, but she's proven herself to be strong. Making her first kill certainly helped her popularity in the Capitol, and her family's interview will solidify her position.

Filly's father, grandfather, brother, and another girl are sitting at the kitchen table. I frown at the screen, wondering who she is. Our records say that Filly is the only girl in her family.

"How do you feel about Filly making her first kill?" the interviewer asks.

Her father gulps. "We… are happy that Filly is standing her ground and making her mark," he says unconvincingly. "We hope she continues to do well."

"We miss our girl," her grandfather, Louie, says without being prompted. "And so do the horses, especially Amber. She's the horse that we made Filly's hair charm from. She loves Filly just as much as we do."

"That's sweet. Who is your female friend here?"

"My name is Pinto," the girl says. "I'm Buck's girlfriend. We're very close as well. I just want her to come home soon."

"Filly is essential to the ranch," her father says nervously. "She's the best out of all of us with the animals. She's the easiest-going person I've ever met, so much that I wonder how she's my daughter. I can only hope that she doesn't forget who she is during this contest. I want her to survive, but I want her to stay true to herself even more," she chokes out, wiping at his eyes. His father places a hand on his shoulder.

The interview stops there, thankfully. It's difficult to try to edit crying family members into something watchable, but his words are more easily relatable to the Capitol audience. Filly's father being worried about her individuality is a valid concern, and a seemingly genuine one at that.

I sigh and type out a 'go ahead' to the editors, then shut off my tablet. I finish my coffee slowly, preparing myself for the coming morning. After the interviews broadcast, the sponsors and news channels will be going crazy with excitement. Perhaps the interesting cast of tributes this year will make up for a somewhat disappointing Career pack. The audience loves the drama, but from a Gamemaker's perspective, it's been a nightmare. The Careers are usually a given conflict with the rest of the tributes, but we haven't had any real fights until tonight. Maybe things will start to pick up now.

At least my arena won't disappoint me. I grin to myself as I think about it. The tributes and even the audience has no idea what I have up my sleeve…

I glance up over my desk at the Gamemaking table, where my employees are laughing and drinking, toasting to another successful Games. They might be celebrating prematurely, but I can't help but let the atmosphere affect me. I should be proud. My first Games have reached the final eight. This is a monumental moment in my career.

I glance up at the big screen, which is now showing the Tag and Seb alliance, the boy sleeping while Seb watches over the cave's entrance with alert eyes. This is a monumental moment for all of the tributes as well, even if they don't know it. If they don't survive, they will at least be remembered for this. They should be grateful for the opportunities that I've given them.

* * *

 **Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next one will return to the arena, which we won't leave until the victor does. In the meantime, which interviews were your favorite? What are your predictions for the final eight? Thanks for reading!**


	32. The Seventh Day: New Beginnings

_Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M_

Last night was the most amazing day I've had so far in the arena. Even though I didn't manage to get my hands on Nikki, we killed her allies, including one of our most formidable opponents in the Games, as well as another tribute, the weak Twelve girl. Now that Tiffany and I have solidified our position in the Final Eight, I'm not as thirsty for Nikki's blood as I was before. I'll get to taste it eventually, but right now all I want to do is celebrate our victory.

We scour the beach for the rest of the night anyway, but find nothing. I'm sure the audience loves my maniacal grin as I swing my bloodstained axe in front of me, the sky flowing red and orange as the sun rises.

"This is useless," Tiffany finally says as we reach the waterfall. The thundering of the water makes her words difficult to hear. "She got a headstart, and she has fear on her side. She could be miles away."

"What do you suggest?" I ask.

"We need to head back to the Cornucopia and rest," she says. "Then we can go hunting again."  
The idea doesn't sound great at first. Despite our lack of sleep and hours of searching, I don't feel tired in the slightest. However, I know what message Tiffany's words are hiding. She's wondering about Hadrian, and what shape he's in. He hasn't died, but he could very well be unconscious and as good as dead, or even up and walking again. The second option makes me feel sick, and fills me with rage.

"Calm down for a minute of your life," Tiffany says in annoyance. I glance up at her piercing blue eyes to see her watching me. My anger must have shown on my face. Her own is smeared with blood, so I point to my own cheekbone where the Twelve girl's blood stains her perfect skin. She reaches up and touches it gingerly, before wiping it away with disgust.

"Sorry. By the way, great job killing a weakling," she sing-songs as I walk backwards ahead of her. "Whose killed the strongest tribute now?

I frown, thinking about the eight-scorer that I killed during the bloodbath. Jason Sparks scored a nine, making him an even more impressive kill. I should have done it myself, but I was preoccupied with the girl.

"At least I didn't kill a pregnant girl," My laugh booms off the cliff that rises up around us, scaring a few birds into flight that are nesting on a ledge.

Tiffany raises an eyebrow at me, unbothered. "She was a tribute, same as us. If you want to win, maybe you should focus on making kills, not bragging."

"Is that what you're doing? I don't think I've ever heard you brag."

"I'll take that as a yes," she says, discreetly wiping the blood on her hand onto her jacket. "We're almost out of water, anyways."

I roll my eyes and turn back around, slining my axe over my back. I grab the slippery rocks beside the waterfall and hoist myself up. I'll go back to the Cornucopia with Tiffany, sure. But not for the same reasons that she is. My bloodlust for Nikki may have ceased momentarily, but I still need that sweet taste of death on my lips. And who has caused us more problems that even Nikki? It's the brutish idiot that is waiting for us at the golden horn. Regardless of what shape he's in when we return, the sand will soak up his blood.

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_

I ran as long and as far as I could before collapsing into the sand. The sun was just coming up when I stopped, and I stay in that position until the sun is positioned in the clear blue sky perfectly. I know the Careers have probably given up the chase by now, or at least have lost my trail. If they do find me, I will fight them off with everything that I have.

I eventually pick myself up off the ground, shoving away any thoughts except those of revenge. I will have the chance to avenge Jason and Eryn, and wallowing in their deaths won't change anything. All I can do is assure that one of their murderers doesn't become a celebrity that is adored by the nation. Jason deserved the victory, and now I'll have to win it for him.

Just thinking about his electric blue eyes makes me tear up and simultaneously ball my fists with rage. I scream as I toss myself into the gently flowing water of the sea, taking a few moments underwater to calm myself. The difficulty breathing helps me get ahold of my senses. I will not die, no matter what. I need to do. Jason was the only person that made me feel anything in a long time, but I've had a whole life to learn how to become an emotionless killing machine. I can do it for a few more weeks.

I come up for air, gasping desperately and pushing my hair back. Water trails over my face and body. I wish I could just swim away from all of this. Away from the arena, away from Panem itself and to somewhere else that must surely exist.

But that is just a fantasy. I am stuck here, without food and water, and only my trident to help me exact my revenge.

I swim out as far as I deem safe, spending as long as I can in the water. It reminds me of my time training in Four. All students at the Academy were taught how to survive in water, of course, but my parents forced me to do extra training, to spend as much as a day in the water. The waves feel like home to me, the smell of sea salt and fish filling my nose, the sensation of seaweed gently caressing my feet when I swim closer to shore.

I swim back to the safety of the sand, looking out to where the large, curved rocks jut out of the sea. They're still quite far away, but in reachable distance for today. It will be a good place to sleep for the night.

 _Tomas Fields (15)- D11M_

I'm roughly awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of two cannons booming throughout the arena. I shiver and wrap my jacket tighter around myself, the smell of sea salt filling my nose. The waves crash against my rock, spraying water up over me. I can only hope that whoever killed the victims are far away, preferably on the other side of the arena. I'm not sure I could run away, let alone fight back if I noticed the Careers were near me. My head is still fuzzy, despite drinking water last night. My eyelids are unimaginably heavy, and I drift off to sleep minutes later, wondering vaguely if I will even wake up in the morning.

But, of course, I do. The sunlight hurts my skin as I blink back into the world hours later. I can only imagine how sunburned I am, and how I must look. Am I even recognizable as the boy who pushed the Reaping ball off the stage?

I slowly slide off of my curved rock and begin making more water. My stomach is growling incessantly, but I ran out of my dried vegetables a long time ago. My only reprieve is the water that I hope I'm boiling correctly. It doesn't taste like salt, but I could be just extremely thirsty so that I don't even notice. My vision is still blurry at times, and my body feels heavy. At this point, I'm not sure dying in my sleep would be the worst thing in the world.

I wonder what my family said in their final eight interviews. Did my father show up, or did he refuse to participate? What did my mother think about me revealing my true parentage to the nation? I might never know.

I'm lying spread-eagled on the sand, not caring if someone comes across me and slices my throat, when I hear the tinkling of a parachute from somewhere above me. I think I'm imagining it at first, but then I spot the silver descending from the sky, the sun reflecting off the shiny surface. I eagerly stand and wait for it to come to me, leaning up on my tiptoes to grab it. Inside is a canteen full of clean drinking water. I grin to myself as I unscrew the lid and take a swig. It tastes so much better than my reformed seawater that I even laugh a little in happiness.

I notice a tiny slip of paper in the case, so I grab it and unfurt it to read in the blinding sun. _Eleven pooled money together to send this- Seeder_. My heart constricts inside my chest. The poor people of Eleven, who sometimes struggle to put food on the table, helped sponsor me? Why? I don't even have pure Eleven blood.

I sigh and sit back down in the sand, taking a real look at my surroundings for the first time. This really isn't a good place to be, out in the open where anyone on the beach or on the cliff could see me. I gather my things and pack them in my backpack, tossing the parachute and silver case into the ocean so that it will hopefully be washed away. I return to my large, curved, rock, which is apparently my home now. It seems safe, at least; the curve blocks me from view and is high enough that I would have an advantage if someone found me, but it's small and rough.

 _I have to win, for my district,_ I think to myself, taking another drink of water. Eleven has gone a long time without a victor that they must be excited to see me in the final eight. I owe it to them to win this thing.

I lay around on the rock, the sharp, jagged parts jabbing my back. The sun is in the middle of the sky when I start to hear strange noises. Perhaps the tide is starting to pick up? But if I'm not mistaken, I can hear someone walking in the water. I hesitantly turn to look beyond my rock, and jolt when I see the girl from Four wading through the water. She climbs up onto a rock not far away, but just back enough that she won't be able to see me if I don't move. I hold my breath fearfully, trying not to move. What do I do? What choices do I have except to stay here and hope she doesn't see me?

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

After last night, Tag and I haven't spoken much. He told me after I woke up that two cannons went off during his watch, and that's it. We spend the morning silently exploring the cave system, finding nothing of real interest. The only thing worth noting is a strange hole in the ground filled with water that is definitely a Gamemaker trap. Both of us are wise enough to steer clear of it and explore further, but overall, there isn't much to see.

"We should stay near the entrance," I say as we make our way back. "That way we can see if someone is coming, and we know the way through the caves to escape."

Tag nods without looking at me. I know he still must be upset, but fighting won't solve anything. When we return to the entrance, we sit and watch the desert. The insects are chirping loudly, the sun beating down on the sand. It must be ten degrees cooler in the shade, but we're still sweating profusely. I wipe some sweat out of my eyes and watch a group of birds pass over us, squawking indignantly.

Against the other wall of the cave, Tag is tying together some twigs he found under some bushes outside the cave. He's using some flexible twigs to tie the bigger branches together, but the smaller ones keep breaking. He huffs as another one snaps in half, throwing it to the ground. I don't know what he's trying to make, but I assume it's a trap of some kind. A trap for food would be nice, as long as it's not too large and suspicious. Maybe I should tell him that, but I think he would take it as an opportunity to argue more, so I stay silent. We still have some meat from the large cat, anyway. It's skin and fur is laying just outside the cave where no one can see it, but it's starting to attract flies and pests. We could throw it over the cliff, but someone might see it and deduce where we are. And I'm sure Tag plans to use it in some way.

"I need more sticks," he says flatly after a few minutes. "Watch my back."

"Fine," I say. He stands and steps outside the cave cautiously, looking around for anyone or anything that could pose a threat. He keeps his knife firmly in his hand as he gathers some sticks from the brown, nearly dead bushes along the mountain. He returns with an armful, plopping down on the ground and starting again. After an hour or so of trying, he has a fairly successful simple trap, large enough to capture a rabbit or snake or anything else worth eating.

"What do you think?" he asks proudly, "I'm not so useless after all."

"I never said you were useless," I say gruffly. "Where will you set it up?"

"Right here," he says with a grin. "If something tries to walk in the cave, it'll get stuck."

"Are you sure it will work?" I ask skeptically. The part that's supposed to be rope is just pieces of twigs tied together, and I'm not sure it will withstand the weight and force of an animal.

"Trust me," Tag says, placing the trap in front of the entrance, hidden somewhat by a bush. "My friends and I did things like this all the time. You have to use what you have."

"You made traps?" I ask doubtfully.

"No," he sneers. "But we made anything we could with whatever we could find. It was our job."

I don't answer this time. Tag moves us further into the cave so that animals won't be afraid to come near the trap. I have my doubts, but I don't voice them. If he puts his energy into this, then he can't put it into hunting other tributes.

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

The day is hot and heavy and wet, the sun hanging lowly above me. Inside the Cornucopia, I have some reprieve from the sunlight, but the metal on the outside heats up and makes the inside unbearable. I find myself sitting outside the golden horn, in the shadow that it casts, blocking the sun out with my hand. I apply the medicine every couple of hours, trying to stand with my splint on my leg. My body still hurts exponentially, but I'm able to walk a bit, and even swing my sword. Then after tiring myself out, I plop back down again on the ground and eat some pork and fruits from our supplies.

I've spent so much time alone now that I've sorted all of our supplies and stacked them for easy access. Hopefully when Tiger and Tiffany return, they will be grateful and realize I'm able to fight with them. But I know that that probably won't be the case. Tiger hates me, and Tiffany doesn't care much whether I live or die. If they come to see me awake and capable, they might decide to get rid of me once and for all. The thought of having to fight both of them fills me with fear. I could take on a lesser tribute for sure, but both of my companions are formidable fighters.

I'm laying in the shade, my sword at my side, watching the birds fly above me, listening to the insects chirp. Then I hear something else, and see a twinkle of silver above me. It couldn't be another gift. I've already received too much for what I've done in these Games. But it is! I quickly stand and grasp upwards for the parachute.

I open the package eagerly, pleased to see the familiar rolls of District Two. The round rolls are cooked with raisins and oats. The bread is tough, just like I remember, when I pick it up. It makes me smile. Underneath them, is a photo that surprises me. It's a small cat, solid gray, in my brother's lap. I recognize the cat, it's one of the many street cats that live in Victor's Village. It had taken a liking to Cassius after he came back from the Capitol. He joked that he should name it Bellona after the Head Gamemaker, since it starting running his life. That joke always made me laugh, and it does now as well.

Photos are rare gifts in the Games. This must have cost my brother a fortune to send. His status as a victor probably helped as well. Beside the picture is a note from my mentors. _Don't let your guard down. You're our victor- Celia and Cato_.

I nod as I place the note back inside the case, so they know I understand their meaning. I take a bite out of a roll, sighing as the taste of cinnamon and raisins hits my tongue. It's been so long since I've had some genuine Two cooking. Capitolite food is lavish and fine, but nothing compares to food from home.

I hold up the picture of the cat, studying what I can see of my brother in the picture. I can't disappoint him, or the district that sent me this bread.

I painstakingly stand, feeling my joins protest. My shoulder screams in pain, but I grit my teeth and hold myself steady. I grip my sword tightly, swinging it in front of me. My strokes aren't as powerful as they used to be, but I'll be able to hold my ground if I keep my head on straight. I need to remember why I'm doing this: for my family, my district, my country. But most importantly, myself. I will be the victor of the Seventy-Seventh Hunger Games.

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

My nights have been filled with terrible nightmares since I killed the Five girl. Terrifying dreams of demons holding me down as I sleep are pervading what's supposed to be my only reprieve from the Games, and I can only hope it will let up soon. I speculate it has something to do with the fact that I have now killed a person, something I will never be able to come back from.

 _Don't think about it_. I tell myself sternly. It would be of no use to get hung up on things like this. It's not like I had a choice to kill her; she was the one that told me we had to fight! And this is the name of the game, after all. If I want to survive, I would have to kill eventually. I keep telling myself this over and over, hoping it will stop the nightmares.

I spend most of my day sitting around eating grapes and reading. But I'm over halfway through with the journal, so I force myself to slow down and take more breaks to sit and stare over the cliff at the desert. If I ran out of pages to read, I might go mad from boredom. I'm used to being busy all day in Ten. I'm starting to tire of eating grapes, too, but I try not to think about that either. I should be grateful that I have anything to eat at all.

My water supply is weaning, but I make sure to ration it out for at least today and maybe tomorrow. After I run out, I might actually have to leave my little hideout… but I don't want to think about that. I can deal with my problems as they come.

It's easy to sit in my shack and read, and pretend that I'm back at home reading a book that one of my teachers at school managed to snap for me. It happened sometimes when I was in middle school. The teachers would do their best to get books from the Capitol that weren't instructional or histories of Panem, and give them to us when they could. I would read when I had the time, but when I got older, I had to take on more responsibilities at the ranch. I've forgotten how much I loved to read, and escape to somewhere else for a little while, especially somewhere as perfect as in this journal.

Many people apparently lived in these mountains before we were here, and two lovers lived in this shack. It's sweet to read about them doing normal, everyday things; taking care of their crops and livestock, fishing down at the shore, spending time with other people at a late-night meal. It reminds me of my schedule in Ten.

But there are the dark parts of the journal as well. One of the lovers isn't always happy, and sometimes goes into great fits of anger. The other is the one that keeps this journal, who is flighty, and always suggests that they should leave the mountains and sail somewhere else, to find a better, more prosperous place to live. They argue sometimes about leaving.

Still, I'm happy to keep reading it. I know it isn't real, just something that the Gamemakers planted to add some intrigue for the audience. I don't doubt that they are shown various pages of the book as I'm reading it, so that they can follow along somewhat.

But then I come across the worst part of the journal.

The angry, stubborn one starts having terrifying nightmares about a demon. _It comes and sits on my chest and tries to strangle me._ The quote in the journal reads. I feel a full-body shudder run through me at that. It's impossible .There's no way that I have the same dreams as a made-up character in this book. That would be ridiculous. I'm just too tired and bored that I'm making things up. I close the book and set it on the ground, taking another sip of water. It's time for lunch anyway.

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

Seb and I are sitting at the cave with the pool of water. The dark water ripples with the gentle breeze that whistles through the caves, as if guiding us menacingly into its dark depths. I don't trust it in the least little bit. I keep my eye on it as Seb watches over the cliff with keen eyes.

"I see someone," he says suddenly at about midday. "The girl from Four."

I scramble over to the side of the cliff, staring over the beach. The girl's long brown hair swings behind her back as she sprints over the sand.

"She's running from someone," I say.

"There's no one else," he says flatly.

"Why else would she be running?"

He doesn't answer. He must not like it when I outsmart him.

"Whatever," I huff. "We can't do anything to her up here."

The girl runs completely across the beach, stopping at the formations of curved rocks and finding one to camp out on.

"We could go down there are kill her," I realize suddenly. "She's setting up camp! She wouldn't know that we were coming, and she's a ten scorer like you! We could make a name for themselves!"

But my excitement is cut short by Seb's callous reply: "We won't be going anywhere. This place is safe, and you already set up traps for food. Are you going to abandon it?"  
"We have to kill if we want to survive-"

"We can keep an eye on her up here," he interrupts me sharply. "There would be no sense in leaving right now."

I get to my feet, balling my fists angrily. "I should never have allied with you! A whole lot of good it's done me!"

"Tag-" he tries to say, but I stomp away before he can finish. I have the knife that he's afraid to use, and without any supplies he will surely die, even if he did score a ten. I can survive on my own.

As I near the cave at the entrance, I start to hear strange sounds. Is it Seb coming after me? No, it's coming from ahead of me. I cautiously creep forward, then straighten up with a grin when I see what it is. Another one of the large cats is trapped in the trap that I set up earlier. It looks up and stops it's struggling as I approach, its eyes wide and frightened as the grip of twigs around its neck tightens.

Then it suddenly breaks out into a loud yowling sound, unlike anything I've ever heard come out of a cat. Outside the cave, a dozen other cats appear, all of them baring their teeth and hissing at me. The one in the trap growls at me, the tufts of fur on the tips of its ears and around its head growing longer, its eyes narrowing at me and turning red. Its teeth turn into vicious fangs, and soon its head and mouth are much larger than before, the fur sticking straight out and its mouth making a hissing sound like a snake. It yowls again and the other answer, before dashing in synchronization toward me.

I immediately turn back and run for my life, blood pounding in my ears. The sounds of the cats growling just behind me, nipping at my heels, keeps me sprinting through the caves.

"Tag!" I hear Seb yell, then the pitiful yelp of a cat. He speeds up to match my pace, breathing heavily as we run.

"What happened?" he asks incredulously between breaths.

"The trap may not have been such a good idea," I yell, glancing behind us to see the cats hissing at us, their tongues long and hanging out of their mouths. Their glowing red eyes have my feet moving faster.

"The caves won't go on forever," Seb shouts. "What do we do?"

I can only register for a moment that he's asking me for advice. We make a sharp right turn, and only a few caves ahead of us, there is another cliff, a straight drop to the sharp rocks below.

"We head for the cliff!"

" _What?"  
_ I don't answer, but he continues following my lead until the cliff is just a few feet ahead. Then I grab his arm and pull him away just in time, so that we skid out of the cats' path. They don't have time to slow down before they barrel right over the cliff, yowling all the way down to the bottom.

Only two cats manage to keep their balance and jump straight towards us, their eyes bulging with feral rage. One growls ferociously as it jumps toward me, but I hold my knife up in front of me and it impales itself onto the blade. It whimpers and falls limp against me. I grunt as I shove it away from me, turning to see Seb wrestling with the other cat. He manages to push it over the cliff before I can get to him, and we can hear it hissing until it hits the ground.

We sit and pant for a while, trying to catch our breath.

"That was a close one," I say. Then I notice Seb is holding his forearm strangely, his opposite hand covering it. "What's wrong?" I ask sharply, moving closer to him.

He lifts up his hand to reveal two deep puncture wounds in his arm where the creature bit him. Blood slowly leaks out, but the wound doesn't seem deep.

"I'll be fine," he says. "Just need to keep it covered."

"We should clean it," I say, standing and brushing the sand from my pants. "Back to the river we go."

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

Tiger and I traipse the arena in the burning heat, sweating profusely. Tiger marches forward with purpose, his brows furrowed and a smirk on his lips. His skin is golden and damp beneath the sun, his muscles bulging through his clothes. The Capitolite women will be drinking in his appearance right now, hoping they will get a chance to see him in person after he wins. He would look amazing in his specially tailored suits, shaking Caesar Flickerman's hand and waving to the crowd.

But he's not as handsome as Price, my boyfriend. He will look even better in those suits, and the Capitolites will desire _us_.

I'm the one that has killed the Sparks boy after all. Tiger has done nothing but be a nuisance to me and Hadrian, threatening to kill him and acting unstable. But, he is from District One. It's my duty to support him so that he wins if I don't.

As the Cornucopia comes into view, I slide my sword out of the sheath on my back, preparing for the worst. I need to help defend Tiger if he makes a rash decision to challenge Hadrian. Tiger's footsteps speed up, a maniacal grin on his face as he swings in axe in front of him.

"Hadrian!" he shouts, pacing in front of the mouth of the Cornucopia. "Where are you, coward?"

"Here." A figure stumbles out from behind the golden horn, his eyes narrowed in determination. He uses his broadsword as a cane at first, but then lifts it into the air, his biceps bulging. He towers over Tiger. "Is this really what you want to do?"

"Shut up and fight me!" Tiger brandishes his axe menacingly. I realize for the first time, as Hadrian steps forward heavily, that Tiger might not win this battle. I didn't expect Hadrian to heal so quickly, or even be able to walk at all. I glance around the base of the supply mounds and see two silver cases and parachutes laying around. I thought his district would have lost faith in him by now, but apparently not. He won't be easy to kill.

Hadrian lifts his sword over his head and brings it down sharply, but Tiger easily dodges it, staying crouched as he swings his axe toward Hadrian's side. Hadrian parries the blow and twists the blade away, and the two of them slowly sidestep in a circle around each other, glaring into the other's eyes. I decide not to intervene yet, if at all. This is Tiger's fight after all, and I wouldn't want to anger him.

Tiger screams in fury as he suddenly rushes forward, slicing at Hadrian neck. Hadrian manages to flinch away, but the heavy blade of the axe grazes his cheekbone, and blood pours down his face. Tiger dashes forward again, this time aiming for Hadrian's legs. The Two Career stumbles and loses his balance, wincing from his sliced cheek and the pain from his existing injuries. I notice as he nearly falls that he's wearing a splint on his leg underneath his pants. Perhaps this fight is stacked in Tiger's favor after all, like I originally thought. It doesn't surprise me. District Two has its fair share of brutish tributes, but One is by far the superior district.

Tiger lunges forward again and Hadrian barely parries his blow, pushing him away with all his might. I can smell Hadrian's fear as he stumbles backwards again.

"You're a weak idiot, just like your brother," Tiger spits out venomously, circling Hadrian. "He had to kill half his strongest opponents in their sleep, and you allowed yourself to be injured by two weak tributes. A disgrace!"

He brandishes his axe again, but Hadrian stays put, only barely dodging the blows. He must be trying to conserve his energy.

"After I kill you, District Two will thank me for getting rid of you, and bow at my feet. I am the only tribute here who has what it takes to win! And I won't do it _dishonorably!_ "

"You're just as dishonorable as Cassius," Hadrian says weakly, parrying a blow from Tiger. "No one can win with honor. You're the idiot if you think you can."  
Tiger roars as he lunges forward again, but Hadrian actually manages to take him on for a little while. My grip on my sword handle grows tighter as I ponder Hadrian's words. Tiger is indeed a very strong tribute, but he is insane. Cassius Cato might have won in a displeasing way, but he isn't a nutcase. Will District One really welcome such a victor as Tiger?

 _No one can win with honor._

Tiger yelps in pain as Hadrian slices the tips of his sword over his chest, then looks down at where the blood slowly stains his shirt, roaring in fury and lunging again. Hadrian holds him off well. He knows how to stand his ground well. I raise my sword and step behind behind Tiger, unbeknownst to both of them.

"Panem will thank me for killing you!" Tiger screams.

"They will," I say, thrusting my sword through his abdomen.

The force with which I pull it back out has him falling to the ground, gasping for air as blood flows in rivers out of his body. His head turns as his wide and fearful eyes meet mine, standing over him. He chokes on his own blood for a minute or so, then falls silent. cannonshot is heard around the arena a second later.

"Tiffany…"

I look up to see Hadrian standing, sword in hand, still in a weary fighting stance.

"Relax," I say, wiping Tiger's blood onto the back of his jacket. "I was just tired of hearing his voice."

Hadrian smirks, letting his sword down. "Me too."

* * *

 **Hello everyone! I hope you all had a great week. I'm headed back to school tomorrow, so sadly the next update may take a while. On the other hand, it might actually come out very quickly as a way to relieve stress. Who knows! I certainly don't. This chapter, we lost Tiger.**

 **8th:** _ **Tiger Emerald (18)- D1M-**_ **created by SurvivalAboveAll. Killed by Tiffany. Tiger was a great, well-rounded character that you could simultaneously feel bad for and hate at the same time. I applaud his creator for making him so fun to write about. I will sure miss writing from his perspective, and I hope the rest of you will miss reading about him. His parents and sister will definitely miss him as well.**

 **We're down to seven tributes! Please review with what you thought of this chapter! See you next time!**


	33. The Eighth Day: Desire

_Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

I sit and watch the national anthem play, popping grapes into my mouth and swinging my legs over the edge of the cliff. My heels gently bump the jagged rock as the faces of the fallen appear in the sky. First, they show the boy from Six, the one who wanted to become a Peacekeeper. His smile is genuine in the photo, and I feel a tug at my heartstrings. He would have made a great one. It's a shame he had to come here.

The next face is the little girl from Twelve, her eyes wide and fearful, but a sweet smile on her face. The last one is the guy from One, his green eyes hard and piercing, his jaw clenched. Not a bad day for these Games. Two powerful tributes died along with another. We're down to seven now.

After the anthem fades away, I stay on the cliff for a while longer, watching the desert below me. In the distance, I can hear the mournful howl of a canine creature. Insects chirp loudly, reminding me of home on the ranch. After half an hour or so, I decided I should go to sleep. I barely notice my stomach rumbling as I drift into dreamland. I must be getting used to living here.

In the middle of the night, I startle awake from my usual nightmare. Someone was holding me down, their body completely dark and shadowed, their face having no features, eyes or nose or mouth. I shake with fear in my bed after waking up, rubbing along my arms where the demon-like figure was holding me. _It's just a dream_ , I remind myself, trying to get back to sleep. I shouldn't be so scared of some nightmare when there are far worse things awaiting me in the real world.

Though it's difficult, I eventually drift back to sleep for the remainder of the night. The next morning, I'm glad to see the sun has risen and illuminated any places that the demon could be hiding. I cautiously head out for some more grapes, on the lookout for any other tributes, but the grapes have grown scarce. There are four large grape vines and a few smaller ones that I've been eating from, but I've exhausted most of their fruits from eating them day and night for nearly eight days. My water is nearly gone too. My growling stomach says I should find another source of food somewhere, but my heart says I should stay here, near the shack, where its safe. Who know how far away the other tributes are, and I've already proven that I can defend myself on my own turf.

I sit in the shade of the shack, reading more of the journal and eating the last of the grapes that I have. Perhaps I could start eating the little green buds that aren't quite grapes yet, but might provide some nutritional value, no matter how small. But the buds taste bitter in my mouth, so I spit them out and try to ignore my hunger.

In the book, the people who live in the mountains are starting to grow worried about some unknown threat. The couple that lives in the shack is aware of the problem as well, but are in disagreement about what to do. One wants to leave and sail across the water to escape, the other wants to stay and wait out the disaster, which is only discussed in very vague terms. They argue for several pages about what to do, and end up deciding to stay for at least a little while longer. They leave the shack and go farther down the mountain for dinner, picking various fruits along the way. I know that I saw fruit trees on my way up here, even taking a few to eat. But would it be safe to leave my shack for some food?

I decide now is better than never. I take my knife and adjust my clothing so that it would be easier to fight, then slowly start to descend down the path from the shack. I see nobody, not even any animals, but I proceed with caution anyway. After several minutes of walking, I come across two apple trees that are laden with heavy red apples. Some have fallen onto the ground and rotted,with bugs flying around them incessantly. I reach up and grab as many as I can, until my arms are full. This should be enough to fill me for a few days.

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

After cleaning Seb's wound last night, we settled down in the cave with the hold in the ground, where we can see the beach. We figured the cat mutts are either all dead or now know not to mess with us, but we still didn't want to be in the front of the cave system where they could see or smell us. I settled down in the dirt for the night, while Seb sat against the wall, keeping watch over the beach. I listened to the national anthem play and watched the faces in the sky appear. Three tributes have died since this time last night. One was even a Career. Now that there's seven of us, with only two Careers left, my anxieties about making our mark are lessened a bit. If we kill, it will probably be out of necessity than anything else.

I'm awoken in the middle of the night by Seb, for my turn to keep watch. I do so until the sun rises, at which point I wait for Seb to wake with the sun like he usually does. Instead, he continues sleeping until I have to lightly shake him awake. He blinks with confusion as he sits up, his face unusually pale. "Sorry," he says roughly, clearing his throat. "Did you see anything?"

"No, it seems that the girl from Four either left while we were gone or hasn't moved from the rock." I frown. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, wiping sweat from his brow. "We need to figure out what we're going to do today."

We still have the carcasses of the two cats that we killed, which will feed us for several days. But our clean water has completely run out, and we've been drinking from the river for a few days now. It seems clear and clean, and is never standing still, but I know from watching the Games all my life that any untreated water can be dangerous. That combined with the fact that any fire we make is very small, using only the twigs we can find around the caves, means that our meat isn't as cooked as we would like it to be. It will be a miracle if we don't get horribly sick before we either win or die.

I side-eye Seb as he shakily gets to his feet. Perhaps one of us has already gotten sick. We washed his open wound with the possibly contaminated water, after all. And those mutts were rather nasty looking.

"I'm going to make breakfast," I say, getting to my feet and dragging one of the cat carcasses to me. I start skinning part of the body, wrinkling my nose at the foul smell and blood that runs over my hands. Regardless of the cats' genetic engineering, the meat seems normal and makes a good meal. I just have to get all of the fur and skin and bones away from it, build an adequate fire, figure out how to hold the meat over it without burning myself-

I hear something colliding behind me, and I turn and realize it was Seb's body meeting the ground. I hurry over to him, helping him sit up. His face is sickly pale, sweating from a fever, his forehead hot to the touch. His eyes are out of focus, even when I call his name and snap my fingers in front of him. I lift up his arm to look at his bite, the two puncture marks bright red and angry against his pale skin. I carefully lay him back on the floor, trying not to get any cat's blood on him from my hands. The meat couldn't be it , and this happened too quickly to be the water. The cat's fangs must be poisonous.

I try to wrap Seb's jacket around his tighter to keep him warm, but he merely shivers more. I leave his side for a moment to open the mouth of the cat I'm currently skinning, moving the lip to reveal the sharp, pointed fangs there. I wrap my finger around one, careful not to prick myself, and pull it out of the gums. Blood leaks out from the where the tooth was, but the tooth itself doesn't seem so dangerous. I pocket it carefully. I might need it later.

 _Tomas Fields (15)- D11M_

The girl still hasn't left yet, sitting on the rock without moving. I had trouble sleeping last night due to her presence, afraid she secretly knew I was here and would come kill me in my sleep, or that I would snore and alert her of my presence. But I drift off eventually, into a restless sleep that leaves me feeling more tired than before. The morning sun has been beating down on my incessantly for hours now, but I still haven't gathered the courage to leave my rock yet. Where would I go? Try and sneak away, hoping the girl won't see me? Or make a run for it and hope I can lose her? I realize too late that I should have left while she was sleeping.

At around noon, she apparently becomes hungry and climbs down from her rock, large trident in hand, gleaming in the sunlight. She wades knee-deep into the water, her brown hair now braided into a long braid. Her back is turned to me, and I wonder if I should take my chance and run away. She stands still in the water, like a bear that's waiting for its prey. I gulp nervously, slowly grabbing my bag and the bottle of water, slipping off of my rock and into the water. I make a small splash, wincing at the sound. I listen closely for any sign that she heard me, but I hear nothing. I wait until she lunges for a fish to run away, so that the splashing disguises the sounds of my footsteps in the water.

I run as fast as I can, hoping against hope that she won't hear me. I reach the shore and glance over my shoulder, heart pounding. She's standing in the middle of the water, watching me with sharp, keen eyes. I gasp loudly and pick up my pace, running as fast as I can. My feet sink into the sand, making a squishing sound with each step. I look over my shoulder again, but realize she isn't following me.

I slow down for a moment in confusion, then speed up again. I can't let a Career's mind games get to me. I'm leaving as quick as I can.

I run for an hour or more, slowing down every now and then for a drink of water. The sun beats down on me relentlessly, but as far as I can tell, the girl isn't pursuing me. Once I can't run anymore, I collapse into the sand. I close my eyes, the sun still burning through them so that I can see the veins in my eyelids. My stomach grumbles, my legs numb from exertion.

I stand slowly, all of my joints protesting. I've barely outran the large rock formations, which rise up behind me, towering over me. I trudge over to the nearest one so that I can plop down into the shade. The tide lightly laps at my feet, gently caressing me. Surely the girl won't be able to find me now. I can't help but wonder why she didn't follow me. Was she too shocked to follow me after I revealed myself, or merely not willing to put energy into chasing me? Whatever the reason, I'm grateful.

As I lay there, I hear a familiar tinkling sound above me. I open my eyes, grinning wide as I see the silver parachute descending to me. I jump up and grab it midair, ripping open the case eagerly. Inside is another message from Seeder, "Enjoy yourself, stay alert."

I smile as I grab a handful a roll from District Eleven, light and fluffy just how I like them. There is also a ripe apple and a sweet-smelling peach. I much on the peach as I watch the distant expanse of the ocean.

I pull the pearl my mother gave me out of my pocket. The black one that my real father gave her as a gift many years ago. With the support of my district, surely I will be able to win. I have to.

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

For some reason, I had a hard time falling asleep last night. I should be sleeping easier now that my biggest rival in the Games has been killed. Tiger was a madman, but he was a lethal fighter that would do anything to win, even slit the throat of an ally. But now that he's dead, I think I've realized that my worst enemy might never have been him the entire time, but the girl that saved me from him. It's embarrassing to think that a girl from District One, who are notoriously air-headed and win merely on their looks and sponsorships.

There's no denying that Tiffany will make a formidable opponent when the time comes. But right now, we're still on the same team. Tiffany helped me away from Tiger's body last night so that the hovercraft could take him away, back to District One where his parents will surely weep over his body and curse Tiffany for killing him. But soon, he will be forgotten like all dead tributes. And if he is remembered, it will be for his mood swings and outrageous behavior.

After he's taken away, Tiffany and I sleep in the Cornucopia together. I lay awake for hours, trying not to toss and turn so as not to hurt my shoulder. The next morning, Tiffany helps me prepare for the day with a breakfast of oatmeal and some warm apple juice that's been sitting here under the desert heat for a week. It doesn't taste the same as it does in the Capitol, but I'm grateful to have a meal with another human being.

"Thank you for helping me," I say to Tiffany as we pack our bags for the next hunt. "And not just last night. You helped me after I fell, and I never thanked you."

"You didn't fall, you were pushed," Tiffany says indifferently. "But you're welcome."

I swallow my pride, turning away before I say something I'll regret. "Fall, pushed. I'm still grateful. We make a good team."

Tiffany turns to smile at me, and for a moment, I can see the girl that charmed the nation during her interview with Caesar, her blonde hair framing her face like a halo. "I think we do too."

"Why did you save me this time?" I ask before I can stop myself, ever curious.

Her eyes turn dark again. "Tiger wasn't victor material. District One wouldn't approve."

I hold back a snort. It seems she is still naive about victory after all. "Why not?"

"He was too reckless, and too concerned with honor."

I look up in surprise. "That upsets you?"

"It's like you said," she says, swinging her bag onto her back. "No one can win with honor, let alone someone who's driven by revenge."

"What drives you, then?"

She thinks for a moment, her blue eyes unfocusing. "I'm not sure anymore… What about you?"

"Desire, I guess. For all of it; the blood, the riches, glory, everything else. Are you ready?"

"Ready."

Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M

 _Seb!_

I can hear someone calling my name from somewhere far away. The tone is urgent, pushing through my deep sleep. It feels good to be unconscious for a while, to escape whatever troubles are surely plaguing me in the real world. What troubles were they again?

 _Seb…_

It that my mother's voice. It sounds so soft and concerned, so it must be. Was I knocked out again from father's drunken antics? If it was just me, then I'll be fine. But if he hurt mother too… then I won't be able to let it slide. Not again. If he hurts her, I'll…

Sometime later, in what could be a minute or a day, I feel myself being pulled back into the conscious world. I try to resist, content with staying in my own realm of nothingness. But the more I try to stay asleep, the more I'm pulled back out of it. I can feel the rough terrain under my back, my hands coated in dust, the particles of sand filling my mouth and making it feel gritty I cough as I attempt to sit up, my face drier than it's ever been.

"Mother…"

"Seb! You're awake!"

Tag scrambles up from where he's sitting at the mouth of the cave, hurrying over to me. He kneels down beside me, feeling my forehead. "You're still feverish."

I open my mouth, my lips sticking together, dry as a bone. "H-how long?"

"A few hours."

"Only a few?" Despite my weak voice, I can hear my own incredulity. How could the illness have worsened so quickly? I thought I would have been unconscious for days for the intensity of it.

"I think it's the bite from the mutt," Tag shakes his head. If I'm not mistaken, I think I can see his eyes glistening. "I should have known."

I picture the creatures in my head, tongues lolling out and eyes red, framed by the puffy manes of hair around their faces. Tag is right. I glance down at the tiny two bite marks in my forearm that are causing me all of this pain, horrified to see the green veins that are snaking away from the wound. It looks like the poison is filling my veins, stretching around my arm and down to my fingers, up even to my shoulder. The two little puncture marks hurt worse than the wound I sustained in the bloodbath from Willow, especially when I move my arm.

"I thought you weren't going to wake up," Tag says shakily, his eyes welling up with tears. "I'm so sorry, Seb. It's all my fault!"

"It's not your fault," I assure him weakly. "The cats attacked us."

"It is my fault," he sobs. "If I hadn't have tried to capture that first one, they wouldn't have come after us."

"You think the Gamemakers would care if we tried to kill one or not? They're bored of us. You were right about us. We haven't done anything since the bloodbath, and they were ready to kills us and be done with it."

"Well, we won't go down so easily." He smiles tearfully, sniffling.

"Now, are you going to let me die?" I ask, feeling the blood in my arm pulse with pain. I try to swallow down my own panic and stay calm for him. "Or are you going to save me, just like you did before?"

"I'm going to help you," Tag whispers. "And we're going to be the last two here, I promise."

I don't have the heart to tell him that that is a strange request. The thought of the two of us being the final two tributes in the Games leaves me feeling even more sick to my stomach, and I lay back down before I vomit. My head feels like it is splitting in half, my body feverish and achy.

I know that I will be dead within the fortnight. I can only hope Tag will be able to survive on his own.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

Hadrian and I set out for the eastern mountain at dawn, ready to taste blood again. I can feel my blade singing for it in my scabbard. After tasting Tiger's blood, I can feel the desire for more inside me. How many is it that I've killed now? Tiger, the nine-scorer from Six, the Capitolite girl from Eleven, and the pregnant one from Nine. Four lives, maybe five, probably more than any of the other tributes have taken. None of the victor's interviews, or my few conversations with victors from One, ever told me how it felt to kill. How your limbs buzz with the desire to do something, anything. To fight and slice open the belly of the opponent that thought they could challenge you.

If this is what victory feels like, then I am ready to feel it for the rest of my life. NO matter how short or long.

"We're getting closer," Hadrian says.

Truthfully, the mountain is still far away, and the sun is starting to hang low in the sky already. We've been traveling slower due to Hadrian's injuries, but he insisted he would accompany me. I understand, of course. Sitting in that Cornucopia all day probably bored him out of his mind. He'll be wanting the taste of blood on his lips. But this also means that I have to travel much slower than I would alone. Hadrian can walk, and fight, but it's a tedious process. We'll likely have to set up camp for the night soon, and start fresh tomorrow. I wouldn't mind it, except there is no shelter where we are, out in the open for anyone to descend on us.

"We should at least reach those rocks," I say, nodding ahead of us, where a cluster of boulders sits just past the river. "We'll have a water source if we run out, and shelter."

Hadrian doesn't answer, which I take as consent. He grunts heavily with each step, sweat beading at his brow, but he doesn't complain either. It's good that he's determined. He'll need persistence if he wants to end up on top in a fight with a strong tribute. The girl from Ten, the ten-scorer from Seven, and Nikki are all still out there, and won't be easy kills unless they are dehydrated and weak. I'm hoping on at least one such opponent, but I shouldn't rely on it.

We reach the boulders by the time the sun is starting to set. As we start setting up camp, a cannon blasts throughout the arena, echoing off the rocks around us.

I look at Hadrian, who is smirking at me. "Just six to go."

He's right. There are only four opponents now, and once we see the face of whoever died today in the night sky, we'll know just how strong they are. My training is telling me that I should hope for a strong tribute to have died, but I'm secretly wishing that a weaker one has perished, so that I will be able to experience the thrill of battle once more.

We finish setting up camp, reclining underneath the setting sun. Hadrian lays to my right, hand on his sword as we listen to the insects chirp their familiar tune.

"Why did you kill him, really?"

I turn to look at Hadrian, hands clasped behind my head. "Tiger? Oh… he had to die sometime."

"Well, of course," he says, apparently unsatisfied. "But what about your district? They will be upset with you."

"I don't care," I say, staring up at the emerging stars. "They can hate me if they want. It's not their love I'm after."

"You said you didn't know what you're after," Hadrian scoffs.

"Well, I've figured it out."

"And?"

I turn to him with a soft smile. "It's what I've been saying along. The thrill of accomplishing something for myself. I don't need anyone to rely on, not even him. Or you."

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_

The sun is hanging low in the sky, and I'm still trudging along in the wet sand. The tide lightly laps at my feet as I continue on, the colors of the sunset stained across the sky. To my right, the mountain looms above me. I've been tracking the little tribute for hours now, and I have no idea whether or not I'm any closer to reaching him.

I don't know why I didn't kill the boy when I first saw him. He was right there, only a few feet away, soaking wet from the water and sunburnt beyond belief. His eyes were filled with fear, and I just let him get away. I didn't even raise my trident.

After an hour or so, my pondering over the boy started to turn to frustration. Even now, I don't understand how I didn't see him, camping only a few boulders away from mine? And why didn't I kill him right away? It's not like I have a choice in the matter. My parents, District Four, and worst of all the Capitol, will wonder why I let a defenseless boy live when I could have taken his life. I have no choice other than to pursue him.

 _This is the price that I pay_ , I tell myself. _To avenge Jason and Eryn_. Just thinking about Jason's last scream of my name makes my blood boil with anger. This boy didn't kill them, but the only way that I can make sure Jason's memory will live on forever is to win the Games. If this little boy from Eleven wins, or anyone else, then I along with Jason and Eryn will be forgotten as fallen tributes that were sacrificed for the sake of the country.

But this boy won't be sacrificed for strangers. It will be for me.

He isn't hard to track. His footprints in the sand are obviously his, and without any weapons he's not likely to stand a chance against me. He'll be weak and tired, probably hungry and dehydrated. An easy kill.

As the sun just starts to disappear into the sea, the hazy orange light casting a strange light on the land, I hear a noise near the curved rocks. The water has washed away some of the boy's tracks, but I can still tell that he's came this way. Could he really be here, just out of sight yet again?

I grip my trident tighter. I haven't eaten since last night, but I still feel pure energy rushing through my veins. I don't need food, water, or anything else to survive. Just myself and my pointed trident.

I creep around the corner, eyes peeled. There isn't anyone sitting atop the rock. Perhaps he is lying in wait for me, a secret weapon in hand that is poised to slice open my throat. Or perhaps he is simply asleep, and will make an easy target.

But it turns out to be neither. The boy is laying in the shallow part of the sea, running his hands through the flowing water. Beside him, a silver sponsor case is floating, bobbing with the tide. Maybe he's not so underfed after all.

I move toward him as softly as possible, just in case he had been gifted a weapon. The boy doesn't notice me approaching until my feet hit the water, and it is impossible to mask the sound of my footsteps sloshing through. His head pops up immediately, his eyes wide. But then he relaxes, slowly swimming toward me. His dark skin say District Eleven, but for some reason, those green eyes remind me of my own, and many others that I've seen in District Four.

"Hello," he says in a timid voice.

I freeze and quietly reply, "Hello."

"Would you like some food?" he asks, reaching for his silver case. I grip my trident harder, prepared for him to pull out a knife or worse, but it really is just food. Rolls from District Eleven. "You look hungry."

I don't answer, but I lower my trident a little. If this boy is open to an alliance, would that really be the worst thing in the world? Jason would say to accept it, and protect each other.

"I was allies with Drew, your district partner," he says, chewing on a roll. "Until the Careers killed him."

I narrow my eyes at him. "I know. I killed one of them for it."

"Did you?" he seems surprised. "Well, hold on. I have some water, too, if you'd like."

I draw closer, the water now up to my knees. The points of my trident dip into it. The boy reaches behind him, pulling out his canteen of water. I take it eagerly and take a large swig, keeping my eyes on him.

"You could put down your weapon," he says.

I snort. "So that you can try to drown me?"

"Who says I don't have a weapon of my own?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Is that a threat?" I ask, raising my trident again.

"If you take it as one."

He meets my eyes, and I remember his Reaping, when he knocked the Reaping ball off the stage and spat at Caesar's feet during his interview. Is he possibly trying to trick me? Or maybe weighing his options, as I am.

I see him reach underneath the water, pulling out something from his belt. Alarm bells go off in my head as I see the object glinting in the sun. Without thinking, I thrust the trident into his fragile body. Blood begins to stain the jacket around the wound, thin red lines swirling in the water. He gasps out for air, his eyes wide and surprised, as blood leaks out of his mouth.

I pull the trident out, and a flood of red liquid permeates the water. I feel my breath coming heavily as I grab the food, pocketing it and the water as the boy falls face first into the sea. In his hand, I can see what he was trying to grab for.

It wasn't a weapon at all, just a black pearl. It gleams in the light, slowly floating out of his fingers. I've never seen any kind of pearl like that since leaving Four.

I wade out of the water as his cannonshot echoes off the water. I didn't have to kill him… but I did. I feel tears well up in my eyes, and I can't will them away this time. I collapse into the sand, my trident spearing the ground. What would Jason think of me?

* * *

 **Hello, everyone! I hope you had a great week. This chapter, we lost Tomas.**

 **7th: _Tomas Fields (15)- D11M_ \- created by TheAmazingJAJ. Killed by Nikki. Tomas was a very interesting character that I honestly haven't seen before in a SYOT. He was lonely but fierce, and didn't belong anywhere but could fit in wherever he wanted. He was a kind, brave person that definitely didn't deserve all of the things that happened to him in his life. His family will certainly miss him, as will his District.**

 **Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed the chapter.**


	34. The Ninth and Tenth Days: Revenge

_Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

I wake early in the morning, just as the sun starts to rise. Dawn is just extending her pale fingers across the sky when I blink my eyes open, staring up at the sky. I sit up as if in a trace, the wild desire for blood on my tongue, guiding me to my feet. I draw my sword from its sheath, the sound of metal clanging against metal. It glints in the soft sunlight, a gentle breeze blowing a strand of blonde hair into my face. I raise the sword above my head, my gaze drawn to the figure laying beneath me.

He lies motionless, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. So vulnerable like this, even though his own sword is right beside him. He may as well be a sleeping baby. I tighten my hold on my blade,raising it up higher and preparing to bring it down- but I can't. Hadrian rolls over in his sleep, his face wrinkled with some unpleasant dream. I wonder what he could be dreaming about that is worse than where we are.

I lower my sword, sighing deeply. I can't kill Hadrian just yet. Am I starting to lose my mind for even thinking such a thing? Killing an ally before it was time is what started the rivalry between Tiger and Hadrian in the first place. It's something that belongs with District Two, not One. We're more sophisticated than this.

I re-sheathe my sword, huffing out of my nose.

"Hadrian." I kick him gently in the side. "We need to get going. It's daylight."

I turn my attention to the large mountain that looms over us, casting its shadow over the arena in the faint morning light. It's going to take a long time to climb. We have the food and water to survive the journey, but Hadrian's leg will pose a problem.

Speaking of- he sits up and groans, stretching out his arms. He winces at the pain, shifting his back.

"How do you feel?" I ask, watching as a group of seabirds fly above us. They're heading inward. Strange.

"Better," he says, grunting as he stands up. The splint is still attached to his leg, helping him stay upright. When we climb the mountain, he'll have to prove his strength.

"Do you want breakfast?" he asks, digging through his bag. "We have apples, and oranges, and some power bars. We need to eat some of it before we climb, to lighten the load."

"Agreed."

We sit for a half hour or so, munching on fruit and protein bars to give us energy. We'll need it for the day to come. The mountain looks rather intimidating as it looks on at us silently. It will be our greatest enemy today, more than any tribute, even if we come upon one. It's taller than the one Tiger and I climbed, and will take a lot longer. We likely won't be back to the Cornucopia for a few days. One of of may never make it back at all. Or both.

I keep my eyes peeled for anything that moves, tributes or otherwise, as we move east. I don't see anything except birds, who are continuing to fly inland. Perhaps there's some kind of water source that we haven't found yet? Tributes could be there, waiting for us to find them and slit their throats. But right now, we have other enemies to attend to.

The sky quickly turns blue, the sun pressing down on us heavily. The Gamemakers are eager for us to get on with it, then. The tribute that was killed yesterday with nothing more than the little boy from Eleven, most likely a dehydration death. The audience will be getting bored by now. Even I can feel the restlessness in my bones.

As we near the base of the mountain, I scan the horizon. Several boulders surround the mountain, and might house hiding tributes. I can also see the entrance to the cave through which we chased the Eleven boy and Five girl. I can feel Hadrian eyeing it suspiciously. I imagine he doesn't have many fond memories of that day. Neither do I, sitting at his side, wondering if he would be able to walk, if Tiger would ever come back, unwilling to move in case we might have the chance of killing the girl.

That's when I see it: a strange arrangement of twigs and leaves at the entrance. I slow down momentarily, wondering if this is simply wishful thinking.

"We should check the cave," I announce.

Hadrian huffs. "Are you crazy? That place is like a maze. We'll never find anyone."

"Then they'll find us first."

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

I drift in and out of consciousness all night, the pain radiating from my arm almost unbearable. I can feel the poison throbbing through my veins, snaking its way all the way up my neck, pulsing in my ear. I can feel each breath drawing into my lungs with difficulty, my ribs rising and falling as I wonder which one will be my last. Surely one of them will be. I know enough about the Games to know that I likely won't make it through the night. The Gamemakers like to make their engineered deaths as horrible and painful and possible, and entertaining for the audience to watch, but dragging them out for too long ruins the fun. I'll be dead by morning.

Somehow, this piece of knowledge keeps me awake. I can't waste of my last moments on this earth without taking in every bit of it I can, even the pain. I stare at the moon most of the time, trying to memorize its shape; the way it shines on the gently rolling sea, and the way the stars twinkle. I'm glad I got to see the ocean before I died. I only wish Alexis could be here to see it with me. And little Benji. I'm glad I saved his life, even if it meant sacrificing my own. I can only hope the poor boy won't blame himself as he grows older.

And Tag. He mustn't blame himself either. He sits by me all through the night, occasionally helping me drink mouthfuls of water. I eventually have to deny the small sips that he tries to give me. We don't have much, and there's no telling if it's unsafe anyway. Tag will need it regardless. He's the one that's going to live through this, and survive us all.

I must have drifted into a restless sleep, for the next morning I blink my eyes open slowly, my mouth tasting gritty. The sunlight is bouncing off of the sands on the beach, nearly blinding me. I can nearly feel my own heart pumping painfully in my chest. My breaths drag into my chest like there is sand in the air. I can barely feel my arms and legs anymore.

"Seb, you're awake," I hear Tag whisper beside me, and his movement as he tries to help me sit up. "Are you hungry?"

"I don't know," I croak out. There's no use in eating, but I don't want to tell him that. "I can't tell."  
"Well, you need food."

He tries to offer me a sip of water, which I accept, too weak to protest. Then he takes a slab of the poison cat's meat and cuts off a bite for me, bringing it up to my mouth. "I think the meat might help with the poison. That way anyone that manages to kill the mutts and prove themselves worthy might be able to live."

I raise my eyebrows. It's unlikely, considering that I've been eating cat's meat this whole time and it hasn't made a difference, but the sentiment is one that the audience might share. We did kill the creatures, after all.

"I doubt it," I say scratchily.

"Still." He nudges the meat toward my mouth. "You need sustenance."

"You need it more," I say. "Take it yourself."

"Seb…" I can hear the sorrow in Tag's voice. "You're not going to die. Just like I told you before."

"Tag-"  
Just then, I hear something dreadful. Voices just outside the cave system are speaking, lowly enough that we can't make out the words, but the cave's walls echo them around, amplifying the voices. I see Tag's eyes widen fearfully as he grabs his knife, turning back to me.

"What do we do?" he asks in a whisper.

"Stay put unless they get closer," I answer, trying to gather my strength. If someone tries to kill Tag, I won't be able to protect him. Of all times we had to run into other tributes, it had to be this time that I'm too weak to do anything.

The voices gradually increase in volume until I'm sure that I'm sure that they must be moving toward us. I recognize the deep one as belonging to the brute from Two, the one who scored a ten and will certainly show us no mercy when he slaughters us. The other surely belongs to the girl from One, considering the girl from Four isn't with them and the other female Careers are dead, even Willow.

"We won't find anything in here," I hear the boy say grumpily. "We should be saving our strength."

"That's what we're doing," the girl says confidently. "If we make a kill here, we'll be able to save our strength another day before climbing the mountain."

I notice Tag grabbing for something inside his jacket pocket. "Stay down," he tells me. "Let me handle it."

"Don't fight if you don't have to," I hiss at him.

"It's too late," he says quietly.

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

I can't deny that I'm wary to enter the caves. I don't exactly have pleasant memories of them since the first time we explored them. As if warning me against it, my back starts to ache with each step, my ankle and knee rattling inside my flesh. "Even if we find anyone, they might not be as great a kill," I say, hating to hear my own unsurety in my voice.

"Wouldn't you like to kill anyone of our enemies? You vowed to kill all twenty-three of us, after all," Tiffany says, turning back to raise an eyebrow at me.

I grumble at her taunts, not willing to show my fear. Hopefully the Capitol isn't stupid enough to think that I really intended to kill every other tribute, or else I'll seem like a horrible disappointment to them. But my performance thus far has been disappointing regardless, so what do I know. I draw my sword, the edge glittering in the daylight, before I plunge into the darkness.

Tiffany and I stalk through each of the caves quietly, hoping against hope that we might be able to secure a kill so early in the morning. As we proceed through the darkness, following the dim rays of light that project on the ground from some distant opening. I know which opening that is; it's the one that I followed the Five girl through when she disappeared. I don't care how much Tiffany tries to shame me; I won't be going down that ledge again.

"What is that?" I follow the sound of Tiffany's voice as it echoes around the walls. I can barely see what she's referring to; a discarded coat of some kind of animal, still bloodied with flies buzzing around it.

"Looks like someone skinned their breakfast." Tiffany murmurs, drawing her balde with a loud clanging sound.

I grip my own sword tighter, peering around suspiciously. Perhaps she was right, and a tribute of decent chance is lurking around here somewhere. It could even be Nikki, our biggest rival in the sight of the audience.

Instead, we hear the quiet sound of feet pattering on the ground. An animal, like the slaughtered one?

"If you want me, come and get me!"

Nope, it's a small tribute, his wild purple hair easily recognizable as the little one from Eight. He scitters away before we can react, disappearing behind the rocks from which he sprung.

"Go!" Tiffany roars, slashing the air in front of her as she dashes forward. I follow her eagerly, the thirst for blood suddenly singing in my veins. The boy may be a small victory, but still a victory nonetheless.

I hurry after them, sword in hand. The boy's body is so small, my blade will slice him in half, innards spilled onto the ground for all to see. He scampers just ahead of us, quick enough to evade us for now. Tiffany is right on his heels, spitting insults at him, snarling with contempt. He turns the corner and we follow, only for me to nearly run into Tiffany's back.

"Little bastard disappeared!" she growls. "We're going to kill you, little boy! You and your lumberjack friend."

The mention of his ally makes me tense up, cautiously creeping forward. The Seven boy is still alive, the only ten-scorer aside from Nikki and I. What if this is a trap? The little one could be leading us to where his ally is lying in wait to chop us to bits.

"Be careful, Tiffany," I warn as she proceeds forward. She's isn't usually one to jump into things without thinking, but her bloodlust might be getting the best of her. "We don't know what their plan is."

"He's a foolish little boy and a reckless lumberjack," she snarls. "Let's cut their throats and be done with it."  
A good plan, overall. I can hear running water from somewhere distant in the caves, and it drowns out any noise of a small tribute prancing around nearby. But he returns soon enough on his own, running straight past us and into the next cave.

Tiffany and I roar as we chase him vigorously, sweat beading on my forehead. I shake it out of my eyes as my feet beat on the ground in pursuit. The little fellow has balls, I'll give him that. Whatever his plan is, he certainly isn't afraid to take chances with it.

"Come back here!" I growl after him, my blood boiling. "You can't run forever!"

Tiffany and I are running at full speed when we turn the corner again, and the floor suddenly stops. I skid to a halt before I tumble over the edge of the cliff, but Tiffany slides right over, her hand grasping a rock jutting out of the ground.

"Hadrian!" she screams. "Help me!"

I don't think twice before grabbing her wrist and pulling her back up. She's surprisingly heavy for her size, made all of muscle, but I get her safely back to level ground, both of us panting. The boy is nowhere to be found. That clever prick.

"We have to get him before he runs off," I say lowly, standing with my sword raised. "Where are you, little rat? The cats are getting bored."

Tiffany wipes blood off of her hands onto her jacket as I creep forward. She spits onto the ground. "Hadrian, I lost my sword. It fell over the side."

"Then you better put your hand-to-hand combat training to real use."

Just as I creep into a passageway, a thin figure jumps out, slashing forward with something sharp that slices across my chest. A thin sheet of blood falls from the wound as I lunge forward into the darkness, roaring.

"Face me, coward!"

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

I snigger to myself as the brutish boy from Two stalks forward, yelling with anger, his hand covering the scratch on his chest. _I can't come out and meet you face to face_ , I say to myself. _Or I'll die._ I glance down at the little fang in my fist. I have to use whatever means are available to me to come out on top, and that usually amounts to ingenuity.

I turn tail before the boy can figure out where I am in the heart of the darkness. Truthfully, even I'm not sure of where I am anymore. The caves are an endless maze that are impossible to navigate. I have to find Seb as soon as possible so that we can get out of here, get down to the beach and as far from the Cornucopia as we can. With any luck, the boy I cut will be dripping with fever and poison just like Seb is right now.

I hear the shouting of the Careers as I flee, only able to hope that they aren't on my trail as I search for Seb in the maze. I finally find him lying in the sun, his eyes closed and his mouth open, groaning softly. The poison has spread through his arm and up through his neck and face, like a tree taking root.

"Seb," I whisper. I hurry over to him, kneeling at his side and shaking him gently. "Seb, it's time to go."

"Leave me," he groans, eyelids fluttering.

"No!" I try to pry him off the ground. His head lolls over my arm. "We're going to get out of here, and I'm going to make you better. Just like you said."

He makes a soft, "ugh" as I get him to his feet. His face is void of color, his eyes rolled back and lips completely pale. "You'll have to walk on your own," I tell him. He sways in place, then puts a hand on my shoulder and stops himself from falling.

"Come on."

We travel as fast as we can through the caves, but I can hear the footsteps of the Careers behind us, singing a children's song as if trying to lure me out.

"They'll follow us," Seb groans.

"They'll try," I grit through my teeth. He's heavy. I take his hand in mine and try to pull him forward. He stumbles beside me, slowly making progress. We emerge into the sunlight, trampling over each other's feet in our hurry. We follow the river, all the way down to where the waterfall flows over the cliff.

"I won't make it down," Seb says weakly. "Please just leave me, Tag."

"No!" I hiss, letting him fall to the ground. He coughs, either from the sickness or from the billows of dust I'm not sure. The Careers haven't emerged from the caves yet, so we have time. "You'll have to try," I say. "You have to try and climb down. Otherwise you'll die."

"I'm going to die anyway," Seb croaks out. "If they find me, they'll leave you alone."

"You're not going to die." I take his arms and pull him up again, nudging him toward the waterfall. "And neither and I."

"Oh, little boy! Where are you and your big friend?"

I gasp and look behind me, where the Career from Two has just exited the cave, looking back and forth for us. He smiles when he spots us, sauntering toward us. "There you are, little one."

"Leave us alone!" I scream, brandishing my fang in front of me. _He killed Sock,_ I think, bristling despite my fear.

"That toothpick isn't going to help you, boy," he spits as his ally emerges from the darkness. She doesn't have a weapon in her hands, but he is carrying a huge broadsword that glitters in the blinding sunlight. He points it at us menacingly, speeding up. "What's wrong with your man? Not so strong now, is he?"

"Leave us alone," Seb groans loudly, impossibly.

"He speaks." he seems surprised. He raises his sword as he gets closer, only a few feet away now. "Not for long, I'm afraid."

I suddenly feel something tug on me, pulling me backward. Before I know it, I'm falling backward, the ground pulled out from underneath me. I scream as I fall backward, Seb a hard wall behind me. When we hit the ground, the wind is knocked out of me, but Seb's body takes most of the impact. Through the ringing in my ears, I can hear the girl from One hissing, "Get down there, Hadrian!"

He replies with a stout, "I will not!"

I cough as I roll over, off of Seb. "Seb…"

He's broken, I can tell. His eyes are unfocused, his body spreadeagled in the sand.

"Why did you do that, Seb?" I sob, holding his head in my hands. "You're hurt."

"It's my job to protect you," he murmurs, conscious after all. "That's all I ever wanted. Now get out of here."

"No, I won't leave you!"  
Above us, I can hear the Careers bickering.

"Can you walk?" I ask Seb desperately, trying to drag him along. "We can get away."

"I can't," he mumbles, but slings his arm around my shoulder anyway as I pull him up. He gets to his feet soon enough. Maybe the damage wasn't as bad as I thought it was. The ground isn't too hard, cushioned by the sand. He's weak from the poison, and the impact has surely made it worse, but he's still here. He won't die.

We stumble along the beach as fast as we can, hoping against hope that the Careers won't be able to track us. Everytime I look back, I can't see them. Maybe they decided we weren't a threat. Or maybe they just didn't want to go through the effort of climbing down. The large one seemed afraid. Perhaps we'll make it after all.

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

My feet are tired from walking for so long. I've been traversing up and down the mountain for the past two days, not straying far from my little shack or the beaten path that's laid out for me. The trees along the slopes are laden with ripe fruit, almost too good to be true. It's almost like the Gamemakers want me to stay here on the mountain, isolated from everyone else. Well, I won't complain. Last night, another cannon went off at sundown. It was the rebellious Eleven boy, probably killed by the Careers who are most likely still at large. I'm not climbing down this mountain while they're still alive. As long as I have the food I need, I won't be leaving.

Still, I've nearly run out of water, but I imagine my mentors will send me some more soon. District Ten hasn't had a victor in quite some time, and someone like me with a high training score and a secure hiding spot is like a miracle for the citizens watching back home. My mentors won't let me die of something as preventable as dehydration.

After midday, the sun really starts to get hot and I resolve to sit underneath a tree and watch the world carefully. I munch on a peach as I scan the horizon. I can't see the Cornucopia from here, but I can see the flow of the river moving north, the layers of sand blowing over the ground. It's beautiful in a sort of deadly way. I take another bite of my peach, the juice dribbling over my chin. I wipe it away and suck it off my fingers. The hot sun is making me feel a little woozy, but that could also be attributed to my lack of sleep. I've been avoiding sleeping due to the nightmares that keep plaguing me every night. It's always the same thing, but each time, it's somehow worse.I've been even more uneasy since reading about it in the diary. I've kept reading, but I feel more afraid every time the demon from the dream is mentioned.

I sit beneath the tree, eating my wares until I grow bored of watching nothing, and gather up the rest of my things for the journey back home. The sun is still hot, but lower in the sky, and a deep red color. The walk back up to the shack is sweaty and exhausting. The heat depletes all my energy much quicker than I would have wanted, especially now that my stomach is full. I'm drowsy and all I want to do is sleep, but I know that I won't be able to.

As I round the corner of the path, to where the shack is standing, I see a strange black figure just disappearing around the shack. A sudden thrill of dread fills me, my heart beating fast. It can't be… the creature from my dreams isn't real. It's just my mind playing tricks on me. I'm sleep deprived and slightly dehydrated.

Still, my heart doesn't quiet as I slowly creep forward, hand on my knife in my boot. My breath comes quickly, senses heightened. Could the creature- whatever it is- be hiding behind the shack? The dark sun illuminates the mountain as I tiptoe around the shack, trying not to make any noise. I see nothing, which both soothes my anxiety and heightens it. Perhaps I imagined it… or perhaps it is simply hiding from me, poised to pounce on me once I fall asleep.

I can tell I won't be sleeping at all tonight. I take my food and sit on the edge of the cliff, prepared to throw the demon over the side if it comes for me. I'm not ready to die tonight.

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (18)- D4F_

The Careers haven't come for me yet. I have to say that I'm surprised. Tiger died a few days ago, probably in some sort of conflict that has prevented the remaining Careers from hunting. The only death since his was the boy from Eleven that I pierced with my trident. Perhaps Tiffany and Hadrian are weakened, easy for another tribute or even aan animal to kill. I suppose that would be good for me… but I can't help but hope that it isn't the case. I'm glad Tiger is dead; the image of him plunging his axe into Eryn's chest fills my nightmares. I hope he received an even worse fate.

But as for Tiffany, I want to kill her myself. Slit her throat and watch her drown in her own blood, or even better, draw it out until she's begging for death. She deserves it after what she did to Jason. She deserves the worst death imaginable.

It's all I think about: how I'm going to kill her. And Hadrian, too, if it comes to that. After that, I don't care what happens to me. I might as well be killed right after. My life as a victor wouldn't exactly be exciting or fulfilling. I have no one waiting for me back home except for my parents. What once drove me, the desire for my own life, doesn't any longer. Instead I only long for revenge.

But I know I won't get it soon. I've been walking ever since I killed that boy. I couldn't stay there, not after what happened. What I did.

So instead, I walk. I don't know where I'm going. Jason wanted to find the edge of the arena, where the force field surrounds us. He thought it would give us an edge, away from all of the other tributes and a way to watch our backs. We never made it, but I might as well try by myself. I'm headed the opposite direction that we were before, but I'll find it eventually. I can at least honor him in this way before I avenge his death.

I carry the boy's food with me, eating as I walk along. I don't feel the need to take breaks. My legs don't hurt, and honestly I don't really feel hungry. All I know is that I have to keep moving. The Careers evidently aren't on my tail, but where else would I go? I can't defeat Tiffany and Hadrian together, so the Cornucopia is out. And the other ten-scorer from Seven is still at large as well. My best bet is to get away from everyone else, like Jason said. Everything else is unimportant to me, even food or sleep.

When night falls, I rest for a few hours, but I don't sleep much. I have only my thoughts to keep me company, and they aren't very pleasant. I eventually decide to keep walking. I don't feel tired anyway. I stay alert as I walk; the Careers ambushed us while it was dark, when our defenses were down. It won't happen again.

I keep my trident up, sweating as the sun rises. A day without death. There hasn't been one in quite a while. But now that there are only six of us left, I can imagine there will be many more to come. The Capitolites will be placing even more bets on who will win, with higher stakes, the fans will be choosing their favorites, whose memory might live on for a few years in their minds, until a new favorite, dead tribute comes along. In District Four, the victors and trainees hoping to be in my position one day will be gathering at the training center to watch the Games and analyze the tributes' movements. I've spent many Games doing the exact same. I did it with my brother. Now my parents will be there, preaching about my mistakes and victories to the new children.

The Eleven boy's bread tastes good. It's fluffy and cooked with butter, probably not as nutritious as I would like, but food all the same. The boy's water is also clear and nourishing. District Eleven probably isn't happy about me killing their chance at a victor and stealing his food, but you can't please everyone.

As the sun rises again, I begin to sweat profusely. I try to drink more water to replenish what my body has lost in my long journey, but I eventually start to feel weak. My head feels woozy, so I stop for a few moments, cursing myself. I should have took a longer break at night, even tried to sleep, while no one could see me here in broad daylight.

I sit for an hour or so, then resolve to continue my trek. The mountain looms above me as I begin to walk, but then the air in front of me shimmers strangely. I stop, unsure, then slowly lean down to grab a handful of sand. I toss it in front of me and it bounces right back, the force field glittering where each granule touches it. I smile and sit back down, starting to draw a line in the sand that I shouldn't cross. Jason would be proud of me.

But just for this. Not for everything else that I've done, or the things I"m going to do.

 _Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M_

"You have to figure out what's happening to me!" I wail, not caring that I sound like a petulant child. "We have to have medicine to help!"

Tiffany sighs as she rummages through her pack. She's still pissed at me for refusing to follow the boy and his ally. She's lost her weapon, we let our enemies slide away, and now I've been compromised. I was fine for an hour or so, during which I waited for Tiffany to return back from her pursuit of the enemies. But we had argued about it for too long; she wanted me to climb down and follow them, but I wasn't about to slip and fall again. So Tiffany said to give her my sword so that she could kill them, but I didn't want to be left alone without a weapon. By the time she convinced me to give it to her, they had already disappeared. And by the time she returned, the poison had already set in.

That has to be what it is; poison. The cut on my chest burned since the little boy gave it to me, but I attributed it to irritation, nothing more. But now the veins spreading from my chest are running black, pulsing with pain and infection. It's reach my heart soon, if it hasn't already. We tried walking through the night, but I've been getting weaker and weaker. We're nearly at the Cornucopia, but I simply can't go any farther.

"What about the medicine they sent you before?" Tiffany asks, sounding unaffected.

"That's for wounds, not poison," I say, my voice coming out smaller than I expected. "That boy did something to me. He was trying to be clever instead of facing me with a weapon, like a real tribute."

"Being a tribute involves intellect," Tiffany drones, giving me a pointed look.

"I didn't become your ally so that you can mock me!"

"Looks like you won't be my ally for much longer."

I surge upwards the best I can, reaching out to grab her. She pushes me away easily, drawing my own sword and placing it at my throat. I growl in anger, my chest pulsing painfully. My back protests as well, as does my knee. I'm broken, completely broken with no way to fix myself up again.

Tiffany moves the tip of the blade away from my neck, walking away. She doesn't care what happens to me. If I die, she's one step closer to winning. The poison had spread too far. We won't make it to the Cornucopia in time to look through our other medicines, and even if we did, I'm sure there's nothing there that would help me. The cut is too close to my heart. I'm unable to walk or fight. I'll be dead in hours.

I look up to the sky, hoping against hope that Celia and Cato will send me something, anything. They have to, they must! They wouldn't give up their chances at having a second victory in a row, a third victory in four years. They'll send me something.

But deep down, I know the truth. My mentors have already spent all the sponsor money on my other medicine kit, splints, food, a personal photograph. Even a Career tribute doesn't acquire enough sponsor money to send any more gifts than that.

I lay there, for minutes or for hours, I don't know. I reach into my pocket, bringing out my photograph of Bellona the cat. Cassius will have her to keep him company after I die. I can only hope he won't regret naming her after the woman who in some part is responsible for my death.

I try to lift my head up, but I'm too weak. I realize Tiffany isn't here; she's abandoned me, left me to die. I don't blame her. I've done nothing but bring shame to my district, my alliance. I feel a tear trace down my cheek as I grip the picture harder. My heart is beating slower in my chest.

I wonder if my brother will mourn me, or be disappointed in me.

* * *

 **Hello everyone! Long time, no see! I'm sorry about the long wait, school has been kicking my ass. But don't worry, the story isn't abandoned. I'm going to try to update quicker next time.**

 **This chapter, we lost Hadrian.**

 **6th:** _ **Hadrian Cato (18)- D2M.**_ **Created by foxfox12. Killed by Spool. Hadrian could have been a typical antagonist tribute, and he started out that way. But I wanted him to be something more, and I hope I've achieved that goal with him. He died alone and afraid, but he will be remembered by his family and friends in District Two. He was a ruthless killing machine, but was also capable of kindness and a true tribute. I'll miss writing him.**

 **Please stay tuned for the next chapter, and leave a review!**


	35. The Eleventh and Twelfth Days: The Calm

**This first part will be apart of the ninth and tenth days, despite the title. After that, we return to the eleventh day. Hope you enjoy reading!**

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 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

After we escape from the Careers, we try to walk as far as we can before settling down to sleep. We don't make it far, and that worries me. We sit underneath an alcove of rock beside the cliff, Seb sleeping as I keep watch with my knife. The arm where he was bit is almost completely full of black poison. I lift up his shirt to see the veins running dark across his chest, reaching for his heart on the opposite side. He's been strong, but he can only fight off the poison for so long. The Careers will come after us before long, and we're going to have to be on the move. And doing that with Seb like this will be near impossible.

I don't want him to die, but I'm starting to understand why Seb told me to leave him earlier.

I keep a hand on his shoulder so he knows that I'm here, even if he doesn't know where he is. I don't know if he'll make it through the night, and that thought fills me with dread. What will I do if he dies? I won't be able to survive on my own, no matter what I said to him before. I can evade the Careers for only so long, dancing around them like a little mouse, until the cats catch me. I have only a knife to defend myself, and only the dismal supply of food that remains from the dead cats.

My eyes are starting to droop when the moon is high in the sky, but I can't fall asleep. Someone could come across us and slice Seb and I to pieces in minutes. When I hear a distant chiming noise, I almost think that it's another tribute approaching us. I tighten my grip on my knife blade, my palm going sweaty, and shakily raise if in front of me. If I die protecting Seb, then so be it. But then I realize the sound is coming from above us. A gift!

I can barely see the glint of the moonlight against the silver box as it floats down to us, landing perfectly in my arms. I cheerfully open it. Of course the sponsors don't want Seb to die; he's attractive and an experienced murderer. They'll send him the antidote he needs for the poison.

I peer inside the box, heart sinking. What is this? Johanna Mason sent Seb a coconut? I know that she's a strange woman, sarcastic and ruthless, but surely she wouldn't condemn Seven's strongest tribute since her own victory to death for a weird joke. I reach into the box and pull out the coconut. A little slip of paper falls onto the sand, barely visible. I pick it up, holding it in the moonlight to read it. _Be resourceful, little one -J_

I grumble under my breath. She's either teasing me or really trying to help out Seb. I grunt in frustration just as I hear another gentle tinkling sound. It couldn't be. But it is, somehow. Another silver box, this time a little farther away. I have to get up to reach it, glancing around to make sure no one is hiding in the shadows. I come back with the other gift, a canteen of water, this one without a message. Food and water is a great gift, but why would our sponsors send us this instead of medicine?

Be resourceful. It's what I've been doing my entire life, it shouldn't be difficult. What can I do with a coconut and water that would help Seb? I open my new canteen and feel something strange against the side. It's some kind of tube, a tiny one that I've seen in the Games before, used to extract water from trees. This one is much smaller, though, as if used to penetrate something smaller.

I realize with a sinking heart what I need to do. There's no way that the mentors can expect me to pull this off. But I don't have any other choice. Seb will die if he doesn't get some kind of treatment.

I wait until the sun starts to rise, during which time I crack open the coconut and drip as much of the juice into the water as I can. It'll need to be as potent as possible. Once the sun is high enough that I can see, I take the tube in hand and sigh deeply, staring down at Seb's still body. He'll die if he doesn't get this right now.

I steady his arm with one hand, trying to locate a large vein to inject the juice. I spot a fat black one, but I can only hope that I'll be able to hit it.

"Don't worry, Seb," I say, my voice shaking. Who knows if he can hear me or not. My own heart is beating fast as I look down at the poison pulsing through Seb's body.

I pierce his arm with the tube, pushing until the skin breaks and it slides in. I shudder at the blood, but purposefully ignore it as I gently pour the coconut water into his blood. This has to work, otherwise Johanna and my own mentors wouldn't have sent it.

I can feel Seb gently writhing with pain at the intrusion of the tube, but other than that he doesn't show any signs that something is wrong, his eyes closed and unmoving. Now all I can do is hope that this will work. It's our last hope.

He stays motionless for a long time, hours and hours as I chew on the last of our cat jerky. It's so tough that it hurts to chew, but I'm hungry and there's nothing else to eat. At around midday, a cannon goes off. I jump up, running over to Seb and checking his pulse. In my panic, it takes me much longer than it should have to find his pulse. He groans softly as I set his wrist back down.

He's alive. The black veins in his arm are receding slightly, the color lightening. I smile to myself. The dead tribute must be the one that I scratched with the fang. Or maybe someone else, but regardless, there's one more tribute down. Only five to go.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

After Hadrian collapses, I can only stay with him for a few more minutes before leaving once I'm sure he won't be able to get back up. At around noon, I hear a cannon echo throughout the arena. It's Hadrian's, for sure. My suspicions are confirmed when night falls, and his face is projected into the sky. I'm the only Career left, aside from Nikki perhaps. I can't say I'm surprised. I've been working toward this my whole life, and I deserve more than anyone else. Hadrian, Tiger, Rufina, even Nikki and Drew… they all were all spoiled children, thinking they would win from their looks alone, or a witty personality. Only I know what the Games are really about.

After I reached the cliff last night, it was too dark to climb down, so I set up camp at the top. Once the sun rises on day eleven, I'm already packed and ready to go. I'm not going to let the little boy and the big one escape, especially not since the Seven boy is so weak. I need a few more kills under my belt before the showdown if I want the Capitolites to take me seriously. Three isn't a very impressive number, though it's certainly one of the best in the arena right now, if not the best. The Six boy was a powerful kill, but I need more on my record.

I climb down the cliff in the pale sunlight, the gentle sea breeze caressing my skin. When I stop in District Four on my Victory Tour, I imagine I'll be overcome with nostalgia. I feel the heavy weight of Hadrian's broadsword on my back. It's bigger than the weapons I'm used to, but I can handle it. Part of the Games are making do with what you have.

I keep a light but steady pace as I jog over the beach, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of activity. Surely the pair would leave footprints in the sand, but they also might have walked in or near and water, which then washed them away. Still, they have to be close. A little boy and a sick, heavy guy that he can't carry won't be traveling at any quick pace. After a few hours, I come across a large indent in the sand, a clear displacement where someone was sitting near the cliff.

Jackpot, I think to myself smugly. They have to be close. I check for any foot prints, but they only lead back toward the waterline, where they disappear. The little one is smart, for sure. But what really surprises me is that there are two sets of prints in the sand. The big one must be up and walking again; his feet aren't even dragging in the ground. I slowly draw my sword so that it doesn't make too loud of a sound, creeping forward cautiously. Could it be that he was faking his illness? After Hadrian got sick, I realized it was some kind of poison that the Seven boy had, but surely he couldn't have recovered so quickly if it was.

Whatever the case, they must be weak and dehydrated by now. They'll be easy to catch up to. That is, until I see the silver cases floating in the water. One of them is close to shore, while the other is way out. The only reason I can see it is the sun is glinting off of it as it meanders into the sea. That bitch Johanna Mason must have helped out her precious lumberjack. Maybe that's why he can walk now, and how the two of them have been evading me so well. I might be in more danger than I thought.

I hurry slightly as I continue, realizing the pair might be traveling faster than I expected.

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

I've been cautiously exploring more and more of the mountain as the day drags on, hot and relentless. I'm on the lookout for anything that seems like the silhouette of the demon creature I saw last night. It came to me again in my dreams, forcing me to lie awake for the rest of the night in fear. Despite my unwillingness to leave the mountain, I know that staying in one place forever will decrease my chances of survival. My supply of grapes has run dry, but fruit trees are plentiful along the path of the mountain. At least I won't get scurvy, I think to myself as I gather up an armful of plums from a low hanging tree. I could live here for years and never want for anything. That is, if there weren't four other Panem citizens here trying to murder me.

I take the plums back to the cabin, sitting on the cliff and munching on a few. I don't have much water left, but the fruits are juicy enough to sustain me. After two plums are gone, I read more from the journal, which I'm almost finished with. I listen to the birds flying overhead, the gentle howling of some canine creature as they roam over the desert, searching for prey. Lately the sound has been encroaching closer and closer on the mountains, and it makes me nervous, but my mind starts to feel a little hazy when I think about something off of the mountain. There's no use in thinking about it. I tell myself.

I open the journal to the page I had folded down, beginning to read. The couple is having troubles again. This time they wandered too far away from the mountains and nearly died from dehydration without the ocean's water. Another group of people follow them back home and jealously set siege to the mountains, threatening to kill anyone who doesn't vacate their homes. But the mountains are so plentiful that the inhabitants can't just leave; they would be condemning themselves to death. The one who always wants to leave urges them to abandon their homes and sail across the ocean to see what they find, but the other is adamant on staying, unable to even get out of bed. When the invaders realize the food isn't going to run out any time soon, they start to catapult things at the mountains, starting with boulders and ending with fireballs. The whole mountain is set ablaze, and even then the couple refuses to move, one not at all and the other not without them.

They die here in this very cabin, as a huge fireball hits right beside the cabin, burning part of the cabin down and collapsing the rest onto them.

I push the book away, shuddering as I shake the image out of my head. The book ends there, after two obituaries written by the other people who lived on the mountain. They apparently tried to rescue them but couldn't, instead only being able to save the journal before crossing the water.

But the most horrifying part of it is the account of some of the people who swear they saw a strange, all black figure standing on the shore, watching them sail away.

I close the book, breathing in deeply. It's just a story designed to scare me. How else would it get here, after the people supposedly wrote in it and then sailed away? It's just fiction, nothing else.

But the thing about the Games is that everything is fiction, but it's still more real than reality.

I feel tears of fear, shock, and sadness well up in my eyes. I didn't know the characters in the journal, but they were the only company I had, and now they're dead. Killed because they would rather die at home than live somewhere else.

I throw the book over the cliff as hard as I can, screaming into the open air. The Gamemakers think it's funny to mess with me, all for the entertainment of the rich, pompous bastards who sit on their plush couches and watch us all die. For once, I feel myself start to get angry at the people who put me here. Anger doesn't accomplish anything. But going along with everything hasn't helped, either. I'm still here.

Just on the horizon, as the sun sets over the mountains, I can see a dark outline of a figure, standing upright. I jump up, staring at it as it stares right back at me, too far away to make out any distinguishing features. Surely the creature can't be hearing my thoughts, right? Even that is completely out of the Gamemaker's league of ability. I'm just going crazy. I close my eyes tight, counting to ten slowly, then open them again.

The figure is gone.

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (18)- D4F_

I sleep curled up on the sand, my jacket wrapped around myself. It's taken everything i have not to move from this spot, even though I know this is the right move. Jason was right about the forcefield; I haven't seen anyone in days. I've pretty much eaten all of my rations, and although I know I can make some drinking water little by little if I need to, I also know that once the number of tributes dwindles down a little more, I'll be up and moving again. I'll need a good supply of clean water, so I start making it now. Unfortunately, one can only watch a tiny silver tin of water condense over and over for so long without going insane.

The thought that I don't have anything else to do in the morning except make more water is honestly what keeps me up all night. I stare through the forcefield, watching the gently rippling waves of air, barely distinguishable if I didn't know it was there. I can hear the low hum of it in the still night air and the gentle lap of the water. As the sun rises, the sounds of seagulls fill the air, a pale yellow spreading over the sky. I yawn as I sit up, finally resolving that I'm not going to get any sleep. My stomach is growling, but I don't feel the urge to eat, knowing I need to ration out my food.

I keep my things in a neat little pile on the shore as I go for an early morning swim. The water feels cool and familiar, the smell of salt and brine soothing me like nothing else can. I smile to myself as I remember my first kiss with Jason. It happened here in the water. He had been so surprised, his eyes widening with shock and happiness. The memory makes me grin at first, but then it fills me with anger. I'm never going to see that beautiful expression again. Maybe when I win, I'll be able to watch that clip of us over and over again to see his pretty smile.

I float on the water on my back, staring up at the sky. My heart is heavy, but I float just fine. Above me, the seagulls are flying inland, squawking all the way. I frown slightly. They've been doing it for a couple of days now, but I have no idea why. In Four, when the birds started migrating away from the water, it meant that there was some kind of storm coming, but that doesn't mean anything here. If there's a storm, the forcefield will keep it out.

Once the sun starts to heat up, I get out of the water to prevent major sunburns, taking shelter under my jacket on the shore. It's hot and boring as I make more water for myself, but at least I'm safe. I see no one, but I keep a look out just in case. If I were to guess, I imagine Tiffany is still on the prowl for me, but she might be looking on the other side of the arena, no where near me. The others are who knows where, but I haven't come in contact with any of the other tributes who are still alive. The girl from Ten is probably not near the beach, since that's unfamiliar territory for her. The Seven and Eight alliance are the ones that could be anywhere. I know they're both smart and capable of killing, even though the lumberjack's story might be entirely fabricated. They're probably holed up somewhere good, traps laid all around them, maybe even picking people off. The little one can't fight much, but he's clever. He wouldn't be alive otherwise.

After I get more and more bored, I finally thrown off my jacket and decide to do some stretching. We used to stretch like this at the Academy before out workouts, and it always relaxed me. I used to get up early in the mornings and go to the beach by myself, before my parents and Marcus could start hounding me to get to training. It relaxes me even now, feeling the sweat dripping slowly down my neck, over my temple. I balance on one foot for as long as I can, then switch to the other. I stretch over the sand, grappling with handfuls of it and feeling the granules slips through my fingers.

I do my stretching for two hours or so, just trying to pass time as the rest of the day drags on. I watch the water undulate slowly, the large waves in the distance. They reach for the shore, desperately trying to crash against me, but become smaller and smaller as they rush toward the sand, instead only lapping lightly at my toes. I think, not for the first time, if I could try swimming out and seeing what happens. It isn't likely that it would lead anywhere; I could reach the forcefield easily, but the temptation to simply swim away from everything doesn't leave my mind so easily, especially as I gaze over the waves that seem to be entirely open and welcoming. But even without the forcefield, the waves dissuade me from trying. The water is too dangerous; anyone who tried to swim or even sail over these waters wouldn't even be able to make it out of the shallow parts. I would die immediately.

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

I can't believe it. Just a day ago, I was hardly able to walk, even stand on my own. I was in such terrible pain, I thought any breath might be my last, and now here I am, up and walking beside Tag. I'm still weak, of course, my body feels like I'm floating most of the time and if I move too fast, my vision goes white, but I can move on my own. Tag helps me along by holding my hand as we silently walk along the shore, in the shallowest part of the water where we won't leave footprints. We've been walking for the better part of the day now, and I know we won't be able to keep it up much longer. The remaining Career will be after us, sniffing at our heels, and we can't outrun her. She's trained, and healthy, with food and water. We're going to have to rely on something other than our strength to get out of this.

Tag and I plow on until we reach a rock formation that Tag deems sufficient. I still feel a little delirious, so I'm not exactly sure what's going on until he's dragging me through the water.

"We're using this one, Seb," I hear him saying through the fuzz in my mind. "Stay awake, okay?"

"I'm not going to faint," I say, annoyed, despite the fact that I'm leaning on his shoulder to stay upright. "Where are we hiding? Behind it?'

"If you want to get hypothermia," he replies matter-of-factly. "We're going to climb on top. Think you can do that?"

"I can do it," I say, trying to sound confident, more for myself than anything else. We wade deeper into the water until we reach the rock itself, the jagged point reaching up for the sky. The flat part of the rock is still made of some kind of sharp volcanic stone, and it cuts my hands as Tag hoists me up. My head feels light as I scramble for purchase, but I amazingly don't faint. Tag manages to climb up after me, helping me recline onto the rock.

"She'll be here soon," Tag murmurs, setting his knife on the surface of the rock. "We're going to have to be as silent as possible. She'll want to check each of the rocks, but this one is far enough away that she probably won't see us if we're quiet and don't move."

"You can count on me," I say quietly, already feeling my consciousness start to fade away. "I'll be here… just wake me if…"

The world fades away before I even realize it. I fade in and out of unconsciousness, but it's not the same as before. I feel like I'm simply sleeping rather than being forced into a coma, listening to Tag mumbling to himself. Probably a step-by-step of the plan. I'm not in pain, even though each breath is still ragged. But my heart is beating normally, and the black poison in my veins has started to retract back to the initial bite wound. Blood and black bile leaks out of the bitemarks every now and then, and even though it's gross to feel while half-asleep, I'm still so wonderfully grateful. To Johanna, to Spool's mentors, and oddly enough to the Capitolites who sponsored me. At least they want me alive for the time being, although I know they would rejoice to see me dead in the next moment.

I can hear someone speaking to me, a hand gripping my arm. "Seb!" the voice hisses. I regretfully feel precious sleep slip away, emerging into the daylight.

"What?" I grumble.

"Shh!" Tag shushes me loudly.

"Then why did you wake me up…" I grunt, trying to sit up. He pushes me back down, keeping the hand on my chest.

I huff in annoyance, until I hear the unmistakable sound of someone running through the sand. Their breath comes in quick pants, and soon they've entered the water and are splashing along toward us. Tag quickly gets down beside me, peeking behind the piece of rock that hides us.

"It's her," he murmurs. "Stay down."

He watches for a few more minutes before suddenly whipping his head back down, breathing heavily, eyes wide. It seems like an eternity before the splashing passes by us, eventually returning to the crunchy sound of sand. She didn't slow down once, apparently too hurried to stop and check each rock carefully, just as Tag suspected. We were in the clear.

Tag breathed a sigh of relief, slumping down next to me. I can hear him starting to count under his breath, starting over whenever he reaches 120 seconds. After he's done it seven times, he grabs my hand and starts to pull me upright.

"We're leaving," he says, grabbing the knife and checking his pockets for the remainder of our cat meat. We don't have much left, maybe only enough to get us through the day. The sun is already starting to set as we climb off the rock, landing in the salty water. The girl from One is gone, run off into the distance. Tag takes my hand and drags me through the water. We won't bother with the sand, too afraid of leaving footprints. When the girl realizes we aren't on the beach, she'll be furious, and coming back this way. We can only hope it will be hours, even days before she realizes.

"We have to keep moving," Tag says, slogging through the water. "We have a headstart, but we're slow."

"I'm doing the best I can," I harrumph.

"I'm not blaming you," he says gently. I try to calm my temper a little bit. I don't want to start fighting again like we did last time, over nothing. We'll be at the waterfall in no time, and from there we'll climb back up the level land, and then up the mountain, the one we haven't already explored. We'll be safe there, finally.

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 **Hey everyone! Sorry about the wait again, and for the uneventful chapter. Next chapter will pick up again, I promise! Thank you for reading!**


	36. The Thirteenth Day: The Storm

_Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

We make it to the waterfall by nightfall, at which point we decide to rest for the night. If the Career girl has realized we've outsmarted her, she'll be coming after us with ferocity, probably continuing through the night. But Tag and I are both agree that she likely won't figure it out; she'll just assume that she's missed us and keep going. We'll be safe here for the night.

The gentle sound of the water running over the rocks and sand soothes me enough that I can sleep, despite the pain that I'm still in. I think it's been slowly coming back, and I don't want to overwork myself and make it worse. Maybe after I get some sleep, I'll go back to feeling better. It's Tag who apparently understands the healing properties of coconut. He said he read about it in a book. I can't say I read much in general, but maybe that will change if I survive this thing. That night there are no faces in the sky, yet again. That's two nights in a row. The Capitol is surely itching for blood, even though these Games have generally been pretty eventful. I can only hope they don't devise a deadly decimation of the remaining tributes. On the other hand, we could definitely use a few deaths caused by the Gamemakers. With only five of us left, the competition is getting fierce.

I wake up a number of times in the middle of the night, each time from a separate strange dream, each I don't really remember seconds after waking up. It makes the night drag on forever, like the sun will never rise above the mountains. When it finally does, the glaring light burns my eyelids and doesn't let me sleep. I shove at Tag's shoulder. Luckily he's a light sleeper too, and he jumps to his feet almost immediately.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, checking his boot to see if his knife is still there. The sight of the blade glinting in the sunlight still makes me slightly nauseous.

"I'm fine," I say, despite my queasy stomach and the continual clouding of my head. Tag bends down to examine my skin, the black poison that extends through my arm and over to my shoulder. It's still scary, no matter how much its receded. I pull my jacket back over it and reach a hand out so Tag will help me up.

"We should get a head start," Tag says, using his other hand to block out the sun and look up at the cliff. "It doesn't look like the Career from One knows what we did, but she'll come back around eventually."

"It's not just her we should be worried about," I groan as I step forward. "There's only five of us left. Any of the others could be around, trying to end things quickly."

"Then we need to get over the cliff quickly, before someone sees us."

I nod, stone faced, trying to stay optimistic. My body definitely isn't at its best, but I have Tag's help, and I'm feeling much better than I did when we came this way before. Going up is harder than going down, but I can manage.

Tag and I start our ascent beside the waterfall, which is much easier than any other path we could have taken up the cliff, clearly planted there by the Gamemakers. I can tell it's more difficult than Tag had anticipated. I feel a twinge of guilt as I watch Tag struggle to reach another handhold on the rock. If I was in my normal state, I could have helped him up the path and easily made it myself, but now I have to sit back and watch him find the safest way, knowing that if he falls his small body will be completely broken.

Speaking of, now that the pain from the poison is wearing off, I can feel pain radiating from my back where I fell from the cliff before. It must be bruised beyond belief. I'm lucky I didn't break anything; the sand must have cushioned me well enough so that I'm still able to walk. If one of us falls now, we'll fall onto the hard rock of the waterfall. I can imagine Tag's fragile body breaking against the rock, splattering blood and meat everywhere. I feel so powerless. I joined Tag in an alliance so that I could protect him, and yet now I wouldn't even be able to catch him if he slips on a wet rock. What am I even here for?

"Seb," Tag pants, about halfway up the cliff. It's not exactly high; I could still jump up and touch his ankle if I wanted. "Try climbing after me. Watch where I put my feet, okay?"

I nod curtly, placing my hands on the slippery rocks. The water cascades down beside us, the noise filling my ears, drowning out everything else. The ascent would be easy if I was in my normal condition; I could climb up in a few minutes and help pull Tag up. Instead I have to struggle for at least ten minutes, grabbing Tag's hand that he offers and letting him help me up. It's all backwards, the way things are.

When we reach the top of the cliff, Tag helps pull me all the way up and we lay on the ground for several minutes, panting from exertion. I can still hear the water crashing in my ears. I open my eyes, watching as a flock of birds flies overhead. I sit up with a groan, shaking my head to get the ringing out of my ears. I look over the cliff at the sea, eyes widening when I realize the water is churning violently, like it's trying to spit something out.

"Tag!' I exclaim, pulling him up. He scramble sto his feet and we stare in amazement at the ocean, swirling and warping in an unnatural way. What kind of Gamemaker trick is this?

"We have to get inland, quick!" Tag yells over the din, grabbing my hand and dragging me along.

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10M_

I'm sitting on my bed, peering out the door like I've done all night. I wasn't able to sleep after seeing that figure out in the desert, instead sitting awake, trying to figure out if I've been hallucinating or not. I regret throwing the book over the cliff. I could have reread the happy parts to distract myself, try to make the ominous figure disappear. Maybe if I don't read about it, it will go away. But now I've tossed away my only recourse, and this demon might never leave me alone.

Every little sound makes me jump. I glance around me every few seconds, terrified that the demon has somehow found its way into the cabin without me knowing. The air was chilly at night, but now it's burning hot. I wipe the sweat out of my eyes, the lack of air movement through the cabin killing me, but I'm not willing to leave. Outside the door, I can see sand blowing around, forming but think that the Gamemakers are responsible for every little grain of sand that's blowing all around the arena. If they can set a demon on me, surely they can do anything.

Or… there's the more terrifying option: that the Gamemakers aren't responsible for the demon at all, but that it is a real monster that's out of their control. I grip my knife tighter from where its hidden under my leg, just in case the demon can see me and will think I'm unarmed. If it comes for me, I'll need to be ready. My stash of peaches and apples are on the bed beside me so that I can grab them easily and run away if it comes to that.

But I would rather kill the creature myself than leave this place, which has sustained me for so long. I tear up slightly thinking about my friends in the book. They died here because they didn't want to leave their home, and here I am terrified to leave myself.

I sit for hours, listening to the wind blow outside, the white noise of the arena. The distant howling of wolves or some strange animal. Everytime, my stomach clenches with fear. The noise rises in volume, to the point that I'm not sure if I'm imagining it or not. It fills my ears so much that it's all I can hear. I feel my breath coming quickly as I realize the sand outside the door has started swirling in a vortex so quickly that I can't see anything else. I slowly get up, gripping my knife tightly and holding it just under my jacket. I cautiously peer out of the doorway, coughing as sand blows directly into my face and mouth. I can barely see anything beside the brown and orange grains swirling all around.

I can hear the inhuman yowling of animals as I hurry back to my fruits, packing them tightly in my pockets and even some in my pants and underwear where I'm sure they won't slip, before heading out as quick as possible. I put one hand over my eyes to block out the sand, but it barely works. I can feel it in my mouth, in my eyes, my nose. The gritty taste and feeling in my throat makes me gag, but I persist. I can see the path below me, so I know where I'm going at least. I eventually forget about blocking the sand and instead reach for the wall on my right, to make sure I don't wander off of the cliff. I lose my footing a couple of times, but I manage to right myself and keep moving. The howls of the animals behind me keep me going, terrified of what will happen if they reach me, or even so much as catch my scent in the wind. But more than anything, I'm scared of the demon. What if it is the one that's sending this storm?

Suddenly, the sand stops blowing, the air going freakishly still as the sand suddenly drops onto the ground. The mountain is exactly as it was before the storm, the leaves of the fruit trees serenely blowing in the light breeze. I've barely moved at all, hardly a few yards. When I turn around, I can still see the cabin behind me, sagging to one side. Then I can hear a distant whistling sound, like something was coming towards me. I watch as a fireball materializes in the distance, rapidly heading my way. I duck down as the flaming ball crashes into the hut, exploding with wood and sparks. I scream in terror and try to run as fast as I can away from the plateau, struggling not to fall over the side of the path. Another fireball scorches behind me, crashing into the path and leaving it tumbling to the ground. I can smell heat and burning leaves as I continue sprinting away. My heart is pounding faster than I've ever felt. I can hear and feel the rumble of the fire as it crumbles the path on the mountainside, making sure that I'll never be able to come here again.

Maybe the Gamemakers got tired of watching me sit cozy in my cabin… but I have a feeling that isn't the case. That book was too conveniently placed for this to be a coincidence. The people in the book died in too similar a manner.

As I realize this, I trip over my own feet and stumble on the rocks, almost falling over the side. I scream in horror as I watch stones tumble down the mountainside. I pick myself back up and keep running. The Gamemakers couldn't be trying to kill me now; they're only playing a game with me. I remind myself of this over and over as continue on the path. I feel the heat of the blaze behind me, pushing me further along. I must run for hours before I finally reach the bottom of the mountain, panting and sprinting as fast as I can until I find the river, then continue to run alongside it towards the ocean. Fireballs continue to rain down behind me, but as I run, I realize they aren't as close as they used to be. They torch the mountains and the desert between them, but seem to stop at an invisible line that I've crossed. a little tornado. It makes me shiver with anticipation and fear. Despite how illogical, I can't help

I smile to myself and turn back around, only to have that grin wiped right back off my face.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

I haven't slept for nearly two days when the sea starts to swirl in unrest.

I've been noticing its strange behavior for days, but out here with no one for company, no one to share these strange things with, its almost like they don't even happen. Of course, that's not exactly true; there are thousands of Capitolites and eager District citizens watching me on television right now, seeing exactly what I'm seeing.

And what I'm seeing has to be impossible. The waves have risen to a terrifying height, though they manage to even back out by the time they reach the shore. I stop and stare in awe, wondering if I've lost my mind as the dark, swirling waters grow higher and higher. And to my horror, I notice something swimming in the depths, huge and monstrous. Now I know I'm not going crazy; I would never think up something this crazy. It has to be the work of the Gamemakers. As wave gently lowers back to the water level, the storm seeming starting to cool down until I hear the loud explosions from behind me. I turn around to see fireballs raining down on the mountains. They aren't near me yet, but they certainly could be heading this way. Without thinking, I run towards the shore while listening to the fire burning behind me. Then I realize what awaits me in the water and I grin to myself, stopping with my ankles in the water.

The fireballs won't reach this far, because this isn't about killing us, it's about driving us closer together. I don't wait for the monster to come for me. I start running the opposite direction, toward the firestorm, as quickly as possible. Let the sea monster claim one of the boys that I'm pursuing.

The firestorm is terrifying too, but I stay confident in my knowledge that there must be a zone in the middle that the Gamemakers want us all to flock to. That's why they've sent these horrors for us to escape from, and I won't be the one that straggles behind and ends up killed. I think as I run, to help control my breathing and keep me calm. There's only five of us left, and the Capitol must be getting bored of with the lack of action. But I was headed right for two other tributes, one of which was completely incapacitated and the other a twelve-year old child who would have been no match for my sword regardless of how clever he is. Does the Capitol really love those two boneheads so much that they don't want to see them sliced to ribbons with my blade? The stupid twelve-year olds are always well-loved, and I remember the applause the one from Seven got during his interview. Still, no one in the Capitol would regret to see them fall on my sword except for their die-hard fans. I have my own, after all.

That's when I start wondering if I was actually pursuing them. I was so sure that this was the only direction they could have gone, but what if they slipped past me somehow? Then the Gamemakers would surely get bored and would be itching to drive us together. My pace picks up again, my breaths coming quickly from rage. Those crafty idiots will die soon. Either tonight from the monster or the fireballs, or from the edge of my blade.

The Gamemakers probably want us all in the same area near the Cornucopia, which means that everyone will be descending on my supplies. The supplies that I've worked so hard for, for almost two weeks now in the arena. All of that food and those weapons belong to me. I snarl to myself as I continue on the path to my home base. I need to take shelter there, then start preparing for the others to show up, or to go looking for them.

My feet pound against the sand, some of it ending up in my boots as I run along the shore. I've never been so aware of my heartbeat before as it thunders in my ears. The combined heat from the sun and from the blaze that has taken hold of the mountain above me is pressing down, greater than any heat I've never felt before. I try to stay calm; I know what I'm doing. I won't be burned alive. I won't be.

Especially as I hear a monumental screeching sound from the water. I don't turn to look; I can't. Not with a singular goal in mind: I have to get to the cliff before it's too late. I'll have to be able to climb without the waterfall path that the Gamemakers gave to us; though it will be difficult, it's the quickest way. If I stay any longer than I need to on this beach, I'll die for sure.

Suddenly something falls from the sky and lands right in front of me, blocking my path. I stumble before I run right into it, sliding on the sand and ending up on the ground with it in my mouth. I can feel the heat from it nearly burning my skin as I hurry back up. I must have been wrong about the fireballs not reaching the shore… but then I realize it's a flaming tree trunk, having fallen from the mountain. I hear the distant yowling of animals that are being burned alive or running from the flames.

I quickly run around the tree, sprinting as fast as I can as I listen to the sea grumble and scream something terrible. I don't dare look, instead continuing to run for hours until I can no longer hear the fireballs landing on the mountains. It seems like the fireballs have finally stopped, but the fire is still raging on the mountains, burning up anything that lives. No one will be able to go up there again, at least not for a long time. I can feel the heat from the blaze all the way down here.

Another screech echoes off the mountains, and this time I can't help but look over to the right over the water, and the sight chills me to the bone. The creature is diving back into the water when I see it, but I can see its long, tubular body sliding above the waves. It's huge, a monstrous creation of the Gamemakers.

I have to keep my head level. The monster is slowly but surely heading to the shore, which means I need to get out as soon as possible, preferably now.

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

The fire is blazing on the mountains, but there's nothing to burn here on the desert floor. Seb and I only have to dodge the flaming fireballs as they rain down from the sky, throwing up sand wherever they land. One of them lands a few feet away from us, knocking us off our feet from the blast. Seb groans as I help him up, but he can still stand on his own. It's too bad I didn't leave some coconut juice to help him again, but it was nearly impossible to save any.

Miraculously, the fireballs seem to stop after that, apparently satisfied with terrifying us for now. I glance up at the mountains, still up in flames. We won't be able to take shelter up there anymore. I pull Seb along as the water continues raging behind us. I don't want to look back to see what the Gamemakers are doing with the ocean. Having a goal will keep us focused and calm, especially now that we don't have to worry about flaming balls of pitch falling from the sky.

"We have to get to the Cornucopia," Seb groans, apparently thinking the same way as me.

I silently nod, helping him along. He's moving faster now, apparently incensed by the idea of getting supplies and a place to rest, but I know it won't last long. The girl from One is definitely heading for the same place, as well as some of the other tributes. We'll have to be ready for a fight once we get there, and I know I'm not up for a brawl with an older tribute. I'm by far the youngest tribute here, and Seb is incapacitated. Our only hope is that there will be medicine in the Cornucopia for Seb, but even if there is, he'll still take a while to heal. My heart feels heavier than Seb as we trudge forward. We've been able to survive so far against all odds, but it seems like our luck might be running out.

We keep running for what feels like hours, until my body feels weak. I realize I haven't eaten in nearly a day, and our only source of food is some of the dried cat meat. I can only imagine how Seb must be feeling. We take a quick break after a while. Seb collapses onto the ground and I lean over with my hands on my knees.

"Seb…" I pant. "We're almost there." The hazy outline of the golden horn is on the horizon, the heat making it look warped and hazy. "We have to get there before anyone else."

Seb doesn't say anything, instead getting to his feet with a loud grunt and continuing onward. I wonder if there is any water at the Cornucopia, or if the Careers took all of it when they went hunting. I pick up the pace, the thought of a nice drink of water spurring me onward. The dry taste of sand in my mouth intensifies as I imagine it more and more.

The golden horn draws closer and closer, the combined heat from the sun and the blaze making like a sauna. I wonder if the horn will start to melt under the pressure of it. Then Seb suddenly fall to the ground.

"Seb!" I stop and kneel beside him, but he just groans and tries to push me away.

"Leave," he says hoarsely.

"I'm not leaving you!" I say shrilly. "There will be medicine at the Cornucopia! Don't give up!"

"I'm not," he says through gritted teeth. "Just come back for me."

I try not to let any tears fall from my eyes, nodding before turning away and running toward the Cornucopia. If he dies, I don't want some sentimental words to be our last goodbye. That just wouldn't be representative of us.

It takes me another half hour or so to reach the Cornucopia, collapsing onto the sand inside. The heat is even worse inside, the golden horn heating up from the sun, so I quickly rifle through the packs that I can reach, looking for anything that can help. Most of the boxes are piled too high for me to touch, but I at least find a bottle of water in a large trunk in the back of the horn. It's been hot and stagnant for almost two weeks, but it's something.

There are lots of medical kits and bandages, but hardly any salves or medicines. I find one that I recognize from the Training Center that's supposed to help with sealing wounds, so I grab that just in case. However, poison antidotes are nowhere to be found.

I take some bandages as well and head out back into the sun, watching the haze and smoke on the mountains in a daze for a few seconds before remembering my objective. From here, I can't see whatever's happening in the ocean, but I can hear a deafening roar. I shudder as I start to head back to Seb, taking a large swig of the warm water. I sprint as fast as I can, more rested now that I've had a break and a drink. The ground shakes every time another shriek echoes through the arena, chilling me to the bone.

I follow my own footsteps to make sure that I'm headed the right direction, but eventually they stop, and I'm left wondering if I've wandered off course. Maybe the wind has blown my footprints away, or the Gamemakers erased them to confuse me. But I'm determined to reach Seb, so I barrel forward anyway, trying to keep going in a straight line. But eventually I realize I've gone too far; the river is right up ahead and we diverged our path from it right after climbing up the waterfall. This isn't the way we came at all.

"Seb?" I shout out, my last hope. "Seb, where are you? I'm here!"

There's no answer, of course. This time the tears really do fall. "Seb, I've got medicine!"

It can't be possible that he died and the hovercrafts took his body already. I didn't hear a cannon, and the roaring and blaze of the fires aren't loud enough to drown it out. I just strayed off the path, that's all.

I start to retrace my steps, wondering where I went wrong, but ending up far past the Cornucopia, where I've never gone before.

I scream out into the open air. I've been searching for him for maybe two hours now. I couldn't have lost him; I've searched everywhere!

Then I hear a light tinkling sound above me. I look up in astonishment, overjoyed to see the little silver parachute flying down to meet me. I grasp it in both hands, opening it slowly to reveal a small little crossbow and a quiver of arrows. Instead of feeling relieved, I'm filled with rage. My mentors couldn't have given me directions to Seb, or an antidote to heal his wound? Inside my mind, I can hear Claudius Templesmith's voice as he narrates my despair to the nation: Poor Tag probably is upset that his mentors haven't sent him something to help his partner, but that's how the Games work! Tag is District Eight's tribute, and Seb isn't.

I throw the box back onto the ground in fury,taking out the crossbow, swinging the quiver over my back and taking another drink of water. The sun is starting to go down, but it looks like my day is far from over. My mentors sent this to me for a reason. Why else would they give me a weapon right despite how close I am to the Cornucopia, where I can take any of them at will?

It's time to show District Eight what I'm really made of.

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_

By the time I've started fleeing from the shore, it's too late.

I had been taking a nap, something I knew I shouldn't have done, but too bored for anything else. I wake up to the salty water splashing against my face, and the ocean swirling into a dangerous vortex just off the shore. It fills me with a sort of dread that only someone from District Four can feel. I've been through enough storms to know what to do: get to high ground as soon as possible. Unfortunately, I soon realize what the Gamemakers have done: they've set me up without any way to leave the shore. I have to run along it until I reach the cliff, a trek that took me days to get here. I'm trapped.

I start running as soon as i wake up, stuffing my supplies into various pockets so I don't lose them. Meanwhile, the ocean continues to writhe with fervor, the sky darkening as a massive roar erupts from the water, along with a monstrous-looking head that emerges, scaly and ginormous with glowing yellow eyes. It locks eyes with me, then opens its mouth and screams with the volume of a thousand mutts. I freeze in place for a few seconds, then as it dips its giant head back under the water, its long scaly body sliding under the waves, I spring back into action.

There's no time for heading to the cliff. My only hope is to climb the mountain itself until I reach a place that is level enough to stand on, then figure things out from there. I scramble over to the mountain, scrabbling for purchase as I try to lift myself off the ground. Years of climbing rock walls could never have prepared me for this; climbing with barely anything to hold onto as the storm rages behind me. I manage to get my feet on a ledge, then start climbing from there. I reason that if I stay on the shore, I'll die anyway, so I might as well take my chances with climbing, even if I do fall to my death.

I hear the monster roar again behind me, the water splashing and wind whipping around my face. I refuse to look down or behind me, climbing until I must be nearly 15 feet off the ground. I can only hope that there will be somewhere for me to stop and take a minute to breathe; better yet a path that I can escape on.

The monsters roars' get closer and closer, and then suddenly I hear a loud crunching sound from above me. I glance up and gasp in horror. Sheets of rock above me and starting to fall down toward me, knocking into each other and plunging to the ground. I scream as the rocks grow closer, but many of them are smaller than I realized and they pass over me easily. I then shakily restart my ascent, trying to stay calm for the cameras. They will surely be zooming in on my face to capture every gritty detail. I put on a mask of determination and reach for another handhold.

Then I hear the roar of the monster again, much closer this time. It sounds like it's right behind me as I finally find a ledge to sit on. I grab my trident from my back and crouch down, hoping maybe I can hide from the mutt as it whips it's giant head around in the air. Its great yellow eyes blink as its scales shimmer with the light from the sun, iridescent and almost reflective. It's long whiskers flicker in the breeze, moving as if detecting something in the air. Then it locks eyes with me again and roars in my direction. It lunges forward, misses by a hair as I duck away fom it. I get to my feet, gripping my trident tightly as I hold it threateningly, daring the creature to come any closer.

It opens its large mouth and hisses loudly, showing its sharp fangs. It lashes out its tail again, emerging from the water to smash against the wall beside me. The wall shakes and I lose my balance, falling onto my knees and almost dropping my trident. The tail passes right over me, trying to swipe me from the ledge. I can tell that the Gamemakers are playing with me.

Lightning strikes on the sea as the creature lunges again, its mouth open wide. I grip my trident tightly, the fangs looking terribly wicked and sharp. The smell of the creatures breath is horrible, but I hold my ground and wait for my chance. As it gets closer, I throw my trident into it, sticking into the roof of its mouth. Its shriek is ear-shattering, and I cover my head as it writhes in the air, clearly in pain, before disappearing back under the waves.

I take a deep breath, slowly standing back up and taking in my surroundings. The storm is still raging, and it probably won't let up until everyone has left the shore. The monster might come back if I don't evacuate it soon enough. I know the Gamemakers tactics well enough after studying them for so long.

I decide that my best bet would be to climb the mountain until I find somewhere safe to stay until a few more tributes have been picked off. If I go back down to the shore, I'll just be easy pickings again. But more importantly, I don't have a weapon to fight with now. Fuming with rage at the Gamemakers, I start to climb. With any hope, there will be food wherever I end up. I've made enough water to last me a few days, but the boy from Eleven's food ran out not long ago.

I have no idea how long I've been climbing, but it feels like forever when I finally claw my way onto a ledge. This one is long and stable, with what looks like the entrance to a cave not far away. It could be a trap, but a welcome one at this point. My muscles are aching and I can barely stand to walk over to it. Inside, there's a black pool of water and animal bones and hides, probably the remnants of someone's meal, either another tribute or another animal. The hides look like they've been untouched for a while, though, so I'm not worried.

I sit down on the opposite wall and watch the storm rage outside. I don't think the monster will be able to reach me in here, and but either way I need a break. I feel myself start to drift off to the familiar sound of wind blowing and water sloshing.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

I've been running for miles before the monster finally slides back down into the water, with only the long whiskers shivering above sea level, before those finally go under as well. I breathe a sigh of relief as I keep running. It hadn't paid much attention to me; I was too far away. I thought that it was trying to knock the mountain over and destroy the whole arena, but apparently it's finished now. Still, I don't trust the giant muttation, continuing on my path with just as much urgency.

After another half hour or so, I reach the cliff. The waterfall is still another half day's walk or three hours run away, but I don't have time for that. I immediately run to the cliff's face and try to find a good place to climb. It will be difficult without the path given to us by the Gamemakers, but they wouldn't have made it impossible. My heart beats wildly in my chest as I climb, wondering if the creature will rear its ugly head again and snap me in its great jaws. My limbs shake as I climb, from both fear and adrenaline. I try not to show it on my face as I climb, remembering my training. I've done enough obstacle courses to complete this. But the thing about most obstacle courses is they have easily accessible and visible handholds that don't break off when you touch them. Still, my determination to reach the Cornucopia overcomes my fear of falling. If Nikki or the one from Ten get there before I do, I might as well die anyway, with no food or supplies to keep me going, and them with all the weapons in the world.

I finally emerge into the desert, growling with anger and concentration. I crawl until my entire body is laying in the sand, giving myself a quick breather before getting back to my feet. It's starting to get dark out, but I can't let that stop me. I start running again.

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

Night has finally fallen over the arena. The birds are singing their cheerful song, but the sound grates at my ears. They're still ringing from the sounds of the monster shrieking and the fireballs crashing into the earth. The sound of the cabin erupting into flames echoes inside my head.

I sit on the ground, gesturing for my companion to do the same. He gives me a stink eye but does as I say, his body weakly flopping onto the ground. I keep my knife trained on him, staring as I eat an apple with the other hand. We've finally found a grouping of rocks for us to hide in near the western mountain, and the last thing I would need is him running away, though I'm not sure he's strong enough to.

"Who sent you? Are you with the other group?"

"I don't know what that means," he hisses, his voice hollow and strained. "I told you, I'm here alone."

"So no one will come looking for you?"

"No, of course not. Except to kill us both."

I narrow my eyes at him, taking another bite of apple. I wonder if I should give him some food so that he doesn't die: he's looking awfully weak, probably from starvation and dehydration. But I decide against it; I don't need him regaining his strength.

"It will come for us tonight," I tell him as the juice dribbles down my chin. "And it will take you instead of me."

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I know it's been awhile and I'm so sorry. Midterms really got the best of me. I hope this action-packed chapter made up for it! I hope to get the next one out on time, but we'll see.**

 **We still have about five or six chapters left of this story, including what's left of the Games and everything afterward, so stay tuned! I hope everyone is enjoying the antics of the final five. Thanks for reading!**


	37. The Fourteenth Day: Sacrifice

_Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_

The next morning, I wake to the sounds of the pelicans and other water birds chirping happily as they return to the shore. I can see them diving down to catch fish and land on the sand to eat. It's a familiar sight that I've seen many times after storms in Four, but I know I'm never going to return there. The Gamemakers surely hope the threat of the monster in the water will surely loom over the tributes' heads, and I don't want to push it. I need to get as far inland as possible before it returns.

I make sure I still have my water before getting ready to leave. This place seems safe, but there's no food. Hopefully there will be some on the mountains, but everyone else will heading up there as well, and I don't have a weapon. I could go to the Cornucopia and try to nab one as well as some food, but I doubt that it's uninhabited right now. Tiffany is probably there, or one of the others. If I had my trident, I would gladly take on any of them, but it seems nothing is working out. I continue to contemplate my options as I stand up and take in my surroundings. I barely had time to look around the cave before I fell asleep last night, but now I see there are other caves leading off of this one. I doubt any of them have food, but it's good to know for later.

I emerge back out into the sunlight on the ledge, gauging how safe it would be to tiptoe my way over to the cliff. I decide it's too risky, and instead choose to take my chances in the cave system. I take the one heading west and hope for the best.

I chose wisely; the caves lead me out into the desert, where a great heat is making the air hazy and heavy. I step out a little farther and look up, horrified to see the mountain up in flames. The blaze is so great it must have burned everything edible that once existed on its slopes. I angrily realize that now my choice has been made for me. To the Cornucopia I go, with nothing but my bare hands.

I start on my journey after taking a large drink of water, fully aware that a heavily-armed tribute could be waiting for me at the golden horn. This might be my last battle, but if it is, I won't go down without a good fight.

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

I feel myself startle awake, shivering violently.

"Did you see it? Did it come to you?"

I look up, my eyes feeling heavy. "What?"

"Did he come to you?" my captor asks again, more slowly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I groan, feeling the sweat on my forehead drip down my face. The mountain above us is still ablaze, making the desert heat even worse. However, my new 'ally' doesn't seem affected. Her eyes are wide and glassy, apparently not uncomfortable at all in the intense heat. She slumps backward against the rock at my answer.

"It didn't come. I really thought it would."

"Well, I think we can agree that your thinking isn't exactly soundproof."

She doesn't recognize my sass, possibly because she's not paying attention at all. "Whatever," she says. "We'll stay here for a few more days. It will figure out where we are eventually."

"If we're going to stay here," I say through gritted teeth, "Can I at least have something to eat?"

"Not yet," she says, distracted. "I don't want to waste any of it on you if you're going to die in the next few days anyway."

That's reassuring. I glance down at where she holds the knife loosely in her right hand. She hasn't let go of it since we first met, even while she eats. I don't know if she slept, but she probably kept it in her grip then as well. Perhaps she isn't as crazy as she seems; she knows that I'll make a grab for the weapon if she lets her guard down. I'm too weak to wrestle it from ehr as is, or run away before she throws it into my leg and permanently incapacitates me.

As for the 'it' that she keeps talking about, it's probably a real threat. My captor has just lost her mind in the arena, something that isn't as rare as the Capitol tries to say.

"Whoever this is that's after you, they won't spare you just because you give me to them. They won't see it as a trade, just two kills instead of one," I try to talk sense into her, leaning closer and watching as she tenses up, eyes narrowing. "We could fight them off together, and then both have a better chance of winning."

"It doesn't want to win, it wants what its due," she says, her pupils wider than I've ever seen on a human. "A life for a life, that's how it works."

I gnash my teeth together. There's no point in reasoning with her. Considering that the girl from One was following us, it's most likely the only other remaining tribute: the girl from Four that left the Career alliance. She's the only other ten scorer still alive aside from me, and a definite beast. She'd take one me in two seconds in this state, then move on to my captor without a second thought. And there would be no help from the Capitol; I know that Tag and I are among their favorites, but there hasn't been a death in three days now. They would cheer on our killer as she slaughtered us. And while that would mean Tag was in the top three, that pins him up against two Career-trained tributes. He's smart and has supplies from the Cornucopia, but he won't be able to take on both of them at the same time if that's what it comes to. I have to survive this to help him.

However, if Tag does find us, then it will be him with a knife against a much larger, older, and crazed tribute with the same weapon. She'll take him out easily.

The only chance I have is to get out of this myself, and quickly.

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

Once I noticed the sun going down last night, I figured it would be too late for me to head back to the Cornucopia. Someone might be there, and at any rate, I have the supplies that I need. I happily munch down on some dried fruit and meat that I retrieved from the golden horn as I listen to the running water flow nearby. I found a suitable place to rest for the night at the base of the eastern mountain, where the river bubbles up from under the rock and flows toward the sea. The large boulders surrounding it are enough cover to hide me, and I suspect that no one will be heading this close to the desert anytime soon due to the firestorm. However, I'm pretty confident that the fireballs won't be coming back unless we spread out too much again.

I keep my knife hidden in my sock as I sleep, and my crossbow, loaded, in my hands. Every now and then, I hear the distant howling of dogs from the barren desert. The last thing i need is to be torn apart by rabid animals.

I wake up the next morning with the remnants of a dream still lingering in my consciousness. I was with Tag and some of the other Sock Knights, playing in our backyard. We had a tire swing in the yard when we were younger, maybe seven of eight, until we accidentally broke it by trying to see if we could climb the ropes. In my dream, Tag and I were taking turns swinging on it while the other Knights tried to lay down underneath us and try not to get hit, another common game that we played. Then our mother called us for dinner from inside, and when Tag turned away to look toward the house, I struck him directly in the head with my feet. He fell to the ground and I immediately stopped swinging, hurrying to him, but he was just holding his head and laughing.

The dream brings a smile to my face. I've always been the one to protect Tag, even when we were younger. I had to protect him when he was Reaped, but what happens if I win? The Capitol will never kill their victor, even if I wasn't reaped, right? It's me that they love, and Tag was the one that was Reaped, so they can't kill him either, he has _lex sacrata_ until his Games begin. I'm pretty sure nothing like this has happened in the history of the Games, unless they hid it well enough for the rest of their lives, so there's no precedent for the Capitol to follow.

It seems my only two options are to pretend to be Tag forever while he pretends to be me, or reveal our true identities and take our chances. Honestly, it might be worth it to tell everyone just to stick it to the Capitol; to show them that they're not infallible, and they were outsmarted by a twelve-year old. At the same time, they could end with not only my death, but also Tag's. Even our parents'.

And if I win, then that means I'll have lost Seb, too.

The thought of Seb brings me to my feet. I take a drink of water and eat a bite of food before preparing to leave. I can't let Seb die yet. I know he isn't dead; there were no faces in the sky yesterday, and no cannons since. He's out there somewhere, waiting for me to find him. He could be passed out somewhere in the desert, or held up by another tribute, or simple wandering in the desert, lost.

I determine he must not be among the dunes past the mountains; that's where the fireballs came from, and the sounds of howling dogs would discourage anyone. He's not on the shore or on the mountains, either. The only place I can think that he would go is the cave that we stayed in a few days ago. That's a long walk, but I'll be able to make it by about noon.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

I run all throughout the night to get to the Cornucopia, and by the time I do, I'm too exhausted to do anything but collapse onto the ground. I pull a sleeping bag from one of the boxes and set myself up inside the horn, my sword at an arm's length away, and sleep for a few hours. I wake before noon, and immediately begin preparing for the others to arrive. I'm running low on food and water, so I stock up before taking in the rest of the supplies. Everything is still how I left it, except a few of the boxes that are open and disheveled. It makes me angry to think that another tribute was stealing from my supplies, but there's no telling who it was.

I ponder my hunting options as I pick out a new weapon for myself,finally able to leave Hadrian's giant broadsword behind. A wise choice might be to wait here for someone who comes looking for supplies, but that could take forever. There's a small window of the desert that all of the remaining tributes are in, so it would be best to go looking myself. The only question is where.

I finally find a wicked curved blade that's thin at the point and deadly sharp. It's perfect. As for where I'll be starting my search, I decide to simply scour the river near the eastern mountain. There will surely be lots of thirsty tributes hanging out there. With any luck, I'll find the pair that I was searching for on the beach. I strap my sword to my back, though it doesn't quite fit in the holster that was meant for a straight sword, and head out.

The sword rattles against my back as I jog toward the river, breathing heavily. It takes about two hours or so until the water comes into sight. My trainers at the Academy always told us that we would do more running in the Games than anything else whenever someone complained about the amount of running we had to do in training. I didn't quite believe them, but I trusted their tactics. But now that I'm here, I realize they were right all along.

I keep my eyes peeled for any signs of life. A few shrews and other small animals are scurrying around in the brush on the shores, but I don't bother to try to catch them; I have plenty of food. There could be tributes hiding in the same brush if they saw me coming, so I try to stay vigilant. I don't see anyone right now, so I decide to move towards the shore. I won't get too close, just follow the river to see if anyone didn't make it far from the monster before settling down for the night.

I keep at it for another few hours, making sure I always know where the sun is to tell time. The last thing I need is to get dehydrated because I keep forgetting to drink water. I don't find much, and I don't want to get too close to the shore in case I wake the sleeping monster, so I slow down as I reach the entrance to the cave system. The place looks as desolate as everywhere else, but who knows what could be hiding inside.

I'm a little hesitant to search the caves themselves, but then I see the barest outline of footprints just outside the entrance. I quickly run over to them and lean down to examine them closely. With each gust of wind, they disappear a little more, but they must have been here for an hour at least. They're heading from the cave outward, in a southwestern direction. Toward the Cornucopia.

I straighten back up, my heart beating fast as I grit my teeth. It's time to finally kill one of my enemies, after days of searching and running and tracking. I sprint back toward the Cornucopia with renewed fervor.

 _Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F_

The day hasn't been exactly eventful; I've spent most of it sitting in the same place and position for hours, watching as the sun drags overhead. The blaze above us has lessened considerably, but the air still smells like smoke and fire. The only thing that's missing is the scent of a slow-roasted skewer of meat, cooking over an open fire behind our house on the ranch.

"Why are you smiling? Seeing things again?"

My attention is brought back to the present. My companion here hasn't been making the day any easier. He's apparently so repellent that even the demon hasn't come to him in his sleep, which he's been doing a lot of. I simply narrow my eyes at him and take a bite out of my peach. My remaining fruits aren't exactly fresh anymore, but they're still edible. I lick up every ounce of juice that I can, hoping that it will be enough to keep me hydrated.

"At least I have a reason to smile. I'll be getting out of here alive."

"Is that what you think?" he scoffs and turns away, watching the sun over the mountain. It will disappear over it soon. "I keep telling you, this sacrifice thing isn't going to work. We should fight them off together."  
"There's no fighting it," I say. "You haven't seen it yet, so you don't understand. But you will."

He grunts in the back of his throat, leaning back against the rock behind him. He probably thinks that I'm crazy, but it doesn't matter. Nothing will matter as long as I can get back home, to my father, Louie, and Buck. Buck and I will cook meat just like we used to before the Games in the summers, watching Louie round up the horses for the night and laugh as our dad as he tries to cut up carrots for a stew. He was never good with a knife. Then afterward, I'd go into the fields to say good night to Amber, her soft orange coat glistening in the moonlight as I pat her neck and kiss her nose, then head to bed. I pull my horse hair charm out of my pocket, feeling her softness even from so far away.

"Your name's Filly, right?"

I look up, immediately distrustful of the curious look on the guy's face. "What does it matter?"

"Just thought it would be nice to put a name to the face, that's all," he shrugs. "Do you know mine?"

I grunt noncommittally, not wanting to admit that I might have an inkling of a name in the back of my mind. I definitely remember his interview, where he admitted he killed his own father. I know everything I need to know.

"It's Seb," he says. "Short for Sebastian."

"Whatever."

He scoots a little closer to me, causing me to tighten my grip on my knife. "You know what it is that I've done. Do you think that I'll cower away when someone comes to kill us?"

I don't grant him an answer, staring straight ahead at the flocks of birds that are heading back to the sea.

"I scored a ten in training. The same as her. The two of us can take her on, especially because she doesn't know I'm here."

"Who do you think we're waiting for?" I ask sharply, meeting his eyes. She seems confused for a second, falling back. My gaze drifts back toward the sky. We sit for a while more in silence, but eventually I grow bored of that. I haven't been around people in so long that it seems I've forgotten what it's like to have a conversation, but the desire is still there. I can't help but feel the urge to talk more to my captive, even just about nothing.

"Have you killed anyone else besides your father?" There's a question that will surely get him talking.

He gives me a side eye and responds with a low, "...Yes."

"Who?"

"Just one of the little tributes. I don't know."

I hum in thought. "I've killed too. The girl from Five. I didn't understand it then, but she was like me. She'd seen what's coming for us. Anyway, I didn't have the stomach to do it at first. I wanted her be my ally, but she didn't listen. I had no choice, just like you did with your father. He killed your mother, didn't he?"

Seb stares at me for a long time and then says, "Yes."

"My mother died when I was young. I don't really remember a lot about her, but I'm sure I would have loved her. My father isn't anything like yours, though. He loved her too."

He's silent for so long that I start to think the conversation is over, but then he says, "I think my parents did love each other at first. They got married, they had me."

"It's too bad that you couldn't save her," I say. "But it's a life for a life. You understood that even before I did; you volunteered after all."

He looks at me strangely, like I've said something unexpected even though I've been telling him this since I first found him lying alone in the sand.

Then I hear a distant noise that sounds like people screaming. "Stay down," I tell him, slowly standing up while raising my knife. I can barely see a thing; it seems the Gamemakers were keen on giving us an early sundown. In the dim, bluish light from the sky, I scan the horizon but see nothing. Another feminine scream resounds off the mountain's walls.

"It must have found someone else before us. Maybe we could-"

I turn around to look at Seb, but already close to my feet as he harshly pulls on one and sends me toppling to the ground.

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_

My trek to the Cornucopia was a long one, especially in the intense heat of the fires combined with the sun. I'm sweating profusely by the time I reach the golden horn, even though the sun is starting to set. I approach carefully, keeping my hand behind my back as if I could be holding a weapon. No one comes out to meet me, but that doesn't mean there couldn't be someone waiting to ambush me inside, or even sleeping. My footsteps are thankfully muffled by the sand as I circle the Cornucopia before finally entering it, keeping my eyes peeled for any movement.

When I see nothing, I take a well-deserved break after running for nearly four hours, lying just inside the horn on the sand. After a few minutes, I pop back up and take in my surroundings. There is a sleeping bag near the back of the horn, looking rumpled and slept-in, but who knows how long that's been there. It also looks like it's been dragged back there, where the original sleeping place was probably closer to the mouth. It seems like typical Career behavior to me; sleep where you won't get backed into a corner, but hide the evidence afterward.

Some of the boxes have been opened recently, if the low amount of sand inside is any indication. The ones that have been open since the bloodbath are filled with the stuff. Most of the supplies are organized in the typical Career style, but some things look like they've been messed with since then. Perhaps I'm not the first person to come scouring for supplies.

The first thing I look for is food, which there is plenty of. Most of the fruits and vegetables that were packed are now rotten and wilted, but some are still edible, along with dried versions and some crackers. I take as many as I can carry and shove them into my pockets. Then I search for a weapon.

Unfortunately, the Gamemakers didn't think to provide me with two tridents. It's pretty typical to only give one for the Four tributes if they've shown prowess with them during their training, maybe two if both tributes are especially good. So now I'm left with the batch of "normal" weapons that the other tributes love to use. I find a set of throwing knives buried under a tarp, and take my favorites. Then on the back wall, I find a collection of spears and axes that might be to my taste. The axes remind me too much of Tiger's bad attitude during training, so I take a spear instead. Rufina wasn't exactly my friend, but at least she wasn't annoying. Plus, a spear has is used in many of the same ways as a trident, just with one prong instead of three or four.

I avoid the swords. Jason's was probably taken up with him in his hovercraft, then confiscated to be auctioned off to wealthy Capitol citizens who love collecting Hunger Games artifacts. I never want to see a sword again except for that one.

I'm lucky that I made it here before anyone else did, especially now that I can wait for the others to arrive so I can pick them off. The only ones I'm really worried about are Tiffany and the other ten-scorer, the one from Seven. The twelve-year old and the girl from Ten won't be much trouble, even if they scored high.

I sit in wait at the mouth of the Cornucopia, my spear in hand, waiting for anyone and anything. I try my hand at a few spear tosses, getting used to the decreased weight compared to a trident. I try to psych myself up for whatever encounter is to come; if it's the little one from EIght, I can't be picky and let him go, thinking that someone else will take him out. I already killed the little one from Eleven, so what does it matter if I take out one more child?

However, the person that arrives isn't the twelve-year old. I hear them coming before anything else, looking over my shoulder to see Tiffany barrelling towards me, here eyes filled with fire. She's still far away, but I take up my spear and get ready, feeling adrenaline course through my veins. The image of her slaughtering Jason comes unbidden to my mind, filling me with rage. I feel my blood pressure rising as she gets closer, a ringing noise filling my ears.

Tiffany slows down as she gets closer, approaching cautiously with her wicked curved sword raised and pointed at me. "Nikki!" she shouts. "Finally came to join the alliance, I see!"

I snort, gripping my spear harder and crouching closer to the ground. I'm the one with a ranged and close-range weapon, while her sword is limited in range. Plus she doesn't know about the knives strapped to my ankles and stomach.

"I'm afraid not," I respond coolly.

"But you're guarding the Cornucopia for me so nicely," she hisses, slowing to a stop a couple yards away from me. She starts to circle around me, and I can immediately tell what her game is: trap me against the Cornucopia and slice me apart. "But I'm afraid I can't accept your alliance. There's been too much animosity between us."

"And I wonder whose fault that is," I roll my eyes. I want to appear like the cool, unbothered one for the cameras, while Tiffany comes across as unhinged.

"We would have been allies from the start if you hadn't run off," she says, slowly getting closer to me like an animal cornering its prey. "Allied instead with that Peacekeeper and a little girl."

"I left your alliance because I knew none of you would last," I say, trying to sidestep her and get the Cornucopia behind her back instead. "And I was right, wasn't I? Here I am."

"And here I am," she snarls. I've succeeded in escaping from her trap, but she's not falling for it either. We stand on either side of the horn's mouth, sizing each other up.

"Here you are," I repeat. The sun is going down quickly. Apparently the Gamemakers want us to fight in the dim light of the sunset. A nice way to edit the scene without computers, I guess. "But not for long."

I run forward, holding my spear in the air and jumping up to throw it directly at her. She dodges of course, the sand billowing in the air where she skids over it. She returns with a slash of her sword that I barely duck to avoid, grabbing my spear. The curve of her sword really does give it an extra advantage, but I can tell the shape is unusual for her.

I hold up my spear with both hands to block another blow from her sword, the tip of it still threatening to touch my throat. I heave it away and hold the spear up over my shoulder, breathing heavily.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

Nikki is pulling out the big guns for this fight, but I have the advantage. Rest and healthy meals for the entirety of my time here means that I'm stronger and more focused, while she's basically fighting for her life. I notice she doesn't have her trident either, making her even more vulnerable.

I feel a droplet of sweat trail down over my eye as we slowly circle around each other, like two predators stalking their prey. I see Nikki's crouching stance before she lunges, and I doge out of the way before she can nick me with the spearpoint. I jab at her with my sword, the sharp edge slicing her side. She pulls away with a yelp before I can get her again, the red blood soaking through her jacket. It's not a deep cut, not something that will even need treatment, but I smile to myself. I've rattled her, I can tell. She's angry that she's been injured, practically growling at me as we continue to circle each other.

Then she lunges again, this time throwing her spear at me, almost striking me in the leg. As I move out of the way, a knife comes out of nowhere, flying past my head. It nicks my ear, and I can feel blood trickling down the side of my head. Still, I feel my lips curl into a smile. She has nearly perfect aim with a trident, but other weapons are more difficult for her. The Four tributes are always so arrogant, thinking that because they have a fancy weapon choice they will always win against other Careers.

"Your parents won't help you now," I call over to her. "You might have been born into this, but I earned it myself, with my own sweat and blood. Hard work will always win over privilege."

"Is that so?" she pants, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "That must be why I got a higher training score than you."

I snort to myself. Of course I know why she got a higher training score; she's the daughter of two victors, who had a large chance of receiving tons of gifts from sponsors and having the supplies from the Career alliance. It didn't have anything to do with her skill at all. However, I don't dare say that out loud; I don't want to upset the Capitolites by taking the magic out of the secret training sessions and score-deciding process.

As Nikki slowly steps closer to me, another knife in hand as she tries to retrieve her spear, I suddenly get deja-vu. I remember my boyfriend Price and I engaging in a very similar battle exercise, where I had supposedly lost my weapon and was trying to get another one, or get my old one back, something like that. Price could have taken me out right then and there, but instead he kept me on my toes with light lunges and such until I was finally tired out, and all he had to do was get in a good swing of the sword but knock me off my feet.

"Sometimes I like to play with my food before I eat it," he had said as he helped me back up, his eyes sparkling as he smiled.

I feel myself grin as Nikki hesitantly approaches, and I slice at her with my sword. She dodges and ends up on her knees, but is up again in an instant. Her long braid swings behind her head as she dodges each of my light blows, managing to do my work for me. She pants heavily as she finally throws her knife at me, her aim impeccable but not quick enough, I lean backward to barely avoid it.

I grin at her as I stalk closer, holding my curved sword up high in triumph. The moonlight glints off the blade, the stars twinkling above us like Price's beautiful eyes. "Say hi to your brother, won't you?"

She lets out a shout and resists with the last of her strength, plummeting into me and grabbing me around the waist to bring us both to the ground. I spit out blood as she gets up and starts to run back to her spear, grabbing it and immediately getting into a fighting stance, just in time to block my sword's edge as I swing at her in fury. I had her! How could she have gotten away?  
I spit blood into her face to try to blind her, but at that moment there is a horrible shriek that echoes off the mountains. We both instantly turn away from each other, staring off into the desert where the sound came from. The rest of the arena is deadly silent as the sound happens again, this time accompanied by a shadowy, disturbing figure that appears on the horizon, quickly floating past us.

I hear myself scream as the creature gets closer, even though it pays us no mind. I hear a clatter and look over to see that Nikki has already run off, her silhouette disappearing in the opposite direction. The creature passes the Cornucopia and looks me once before continuing on its path at an inhuman speed. All thoughts of the Games, Nikki, or anything else leave my mind as I run for my life, taking after Nikki and fleeing away from the golden horn.

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

I crawl on top of Filly, punching her across the face with all the strength I can muster, which isn't very much. Her survival instincts kick in as she knees me in the stomach and tries to jam the knife into my stomach, but I grab her wrist and keep the blade at bay, watching as it edges every nearer to me. She finally gets her other arm out from underneath herself and slaps me, then tries to stick me again with the knife, though I thankfully move out of the way just in time.

Panting, I roll over and stand up, my legs shaking. This didn't go exactly as planned, but she's definitely rattled. She roars in fury as she advances on me, swinging the knife in front of her as she spits blood out of her mouth. "You tried to kill me? After I talked to you about your parents?!"

"I was just trying to get away," I say in a small voice. "Not kill you."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?!" She tries to grab my sleeve and pull me back to the ground. I flinch away from her, figuring it's now or never to try to get away, but she grabs me harshly and pulls me down to the ground. I elbow her in the stomach unexpectedly, making her shout in pain and slap me again across the face, forcing my shoulders down. She backs away slowly, pointing her knife at me.

"Try any of that again and I won't be so merciful. It's your life that it wants, but maybe you could lose a finger or two in the meantime."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."  
She turns around at the sound of a familiar voice. It's Tag, standing there shrouded in darkness, a little crossbow poised to shoot. I cry out in relief.

Filly turns back to look at me again. "You lied to me about having an ally."

"Of course I did," I say matter-of-factly.

"You had no reason to lie." She sounds genuinely puzzled, not even frightened.

"And you had no reason to keep me hostage," I snarl, trying to stand up again.

She growls and advances toward me again, knife in hand.

"Stop!" I hear Tag yell. Her face is stained with her own blood, but the fury in her eyes is unmistakable. She comes closer and suddenly it's not the girl from Ten who's trying to kill me, it's the shadowy figure of someone else who is wielding a kitchen knife.

As she steps closer, her face is briefly illuminated by the moonlight, and I swear I could see my own features in hers. Blood spurts out from her chest, and we both look down to see a tiny arrow point sticking out of her body. She coughs blood into my face, then falls to the ground, slowly bleeding into the sand.

Tag steps to my side with a grim expression. "I'm sorry, Seb. I shouldn't have left you alone."

"It wasn't your fault," I say. Filly is heaving in air at our feet, choking on her own blood. I kneel down beside her and gently place a hand on her back, wondering how long it will take for her to die. Tag leans down and picks up her knife, indifferently inspecting it and placing it in his boot alongside the other one.

"Mother?" Filly asks, blood bubbling out of her mouth.

Then I hear Tag gasp. "What is that?!"

I look up and see a horrific sight: a shadowy figure with a humanoid form, moving closer to us. Tag grabs my arm and pulls me away from Filly as it kneels down beside Filly and touches her. Filly makes a small laughing sound, not sounding frightened at all, as Tag tries to get me to run with him. I can't move very fast, but we need to get away before the creature turns its attention to us.

The cannon goes off as we run in the opposite direction.

* * *

 **Hello everyone! Finally an update that's on time. This chapter, we lost Filly.**

 **5th)** _ **Filly Marcoffe (18)- D10F**_ **\- created by OChirpO. Killed by Spool. Filly was an interesting character that I was attracted to right from the start, namely because her perspective on things was so different than most. Even as she lost her sanity, I don't think she ever lost what really made her stand out. She's been through a lot in her life and in the Games, but now she finally gets to rest. I'll certainly miss writing her as a character, and her family in District Ten will miss her as well.**

 **Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you enjoyed the chapter and stay tuned for more.**


	38. The Fifteenth Day: Mistake or Design

_Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (18)- D4F_

I run as fast as I can for as long as possible, escaping that terrifying creature the only goal in mind. I don't even think about the possibility of Tiffany following me until I reach the caves from which I came this morning, when I realize this would be exactly where she would look for me. Instead, I follow along the mountain, keeping a good distance between myself and river and keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. A cannon echoes into the night right before the names of the fallen show in the sky, revealing that it was the girl from Ten. I keep walking, the light of the moon guiding my path and sometimes disappearing as the clouds cover it every now and then. I eventually realize how exhausted I am and settle down for the night, laying in the reeds near the bank of the river.

I listen carefully to the sounds of canines howling in the distance, closing my eyes and trying to shut out the horrifying image of that creature flying past us. I can only hope that it won't return for me, because I won't stand a chance against it. Rationally, I know that the Gamemakers won't kill anyone outright with such a powerful mutt; such a death would be too uneventful and anticlimactic. But I still can't help but wonder why the Gamemakers set it on us without having it attack us in any way. It looked like it was headed somewhere else, which apparently was more important than the two of us. I can't help but wonder if it was the girl who died; if it was responsible in some way. The thought fills me with terror and keeps me awake most of the night.

The next morning, I wake to the sounds of birds chirping and the sun shining on my face. I quickly sit up and take in my surroundings. My spear is still beside me, and so is the food that I retrieved from the Cornucopia. It doesn't appear that the creature visited me in the night, or anyone else. I eat a small breakfast, still hiding in the reeds just in case, before packing my things and getting ready. From all the time I've spent reading about and watching Hunger Games, I know that the victor will be crowned in the next few days. Our sphere of movement is restricted due to the sea monster, and there are only four of us left.

It's not until I stand that I remember my wound from my fight with Tiffany. It stings as my body stretches upward. It's not deep, but long, extending all around the left side of my waist. It will leave a scar for sure. I can't help but think of all the training sessions my parents put me through to avoid this far thing from happening. I can only imagine them watching at home, surrounded by the medals and pictures of victors that they've trained, shaking their heads as they watch a pretty girl from One get the best of me. They had never liked One, even before one of their tributes stabbed my brother in the thigh in his own Games, an injury that would eventually lead to his demise at the hands of the victor. District One was too flashy for my parents, and according to them always delivered the weakest tributes. They are probably embarrassed about me right now, fuming in disappointment. I should have killed Tiffany then and there, remembered the lessons my parents taught me and kept my cool instead of getting fired up about Jason and Eryn. I could have had my revenge and made my parents proud, which will ultimately lead to a easier life for me after I win, but I let her injure me and then ran away. I grit my teeth together thinking about it.

At least I was able to tackle her and show her I mean business. It won't happen again the next time we meet, if the guy from Seven doesn't pick her off first. If it wasn't the demon that killed the girl from Ten, I imagine it was him.

I finally stand all the way upright and realize what I need to do. The Cornucopia is the best center of action, easily defendable and attractive to other tributes as well. Surely I'll come across someone I can kill there.

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

After killing the girl from Ten, Seb and I retreated to the Cornucopia, hoping against hope that no one would be there to fight us. We were lucky; the golden horn was empty of anything but supplies, which we now had in abundance. But I know that that won't last for long.

Seb makes noise all throughout the night, and I know his pain must be immeasurable. I've been able to keep him alive for much longer than he would have on his own, but his black veins have been redrawn all over his body pulsing with his heartbeat, his eyes fluttering open and shut again with each breath.

When our next encounter happens, I'll have to defend myself. But I'm weirdly not afraid. I've killed someone, and I felt nothing. I was just saving Seb's life, doing what had to be done, just like when I had to catch one of those poisonous cats to eat. Doing it again won't be as difficult as Seb thinks.

"Tag," he calls weakly from his sleeping bag at the mouth of the horn. "Come here."

I hesitate to leave the horn unguarded, but I should do as he asks. I keep my eyes peeled as I head back to where he's laying, his head covered with sweat. I help him sit up slightly and hand him my bottle of water.

"You should save it," he gasps after taking a reluctant drink.

"You need water too."

"Not for long."

"Don't say that," I say sharply, snatching the bottle away and screwing the lid back on. I don't want to think about Seb dying. I knew that we would make it this far; how couldn't we, with Seb's training score and my smarts? But I never thought that it would happen like this. Maybe one of us would die in the final battle and leave the other as a victor, or even that we would end up against each other, as much as I would have hated that. I didn't think it would be like this, slow and drawn out over days and days, until Seb finally leaves me alone in the arena. I feel my eyes fill with tears at the thought and I angrily wipe them away.

"What did you want?" I ask harshly. I sit down next to him, taking a drink of water. The fire on the mountains has completely burned out, leaving behind charred ashes of the once lush life on the cliffside, a blackened version of what it used to be. Seb's chest heaves with each breath, his veins pulsing with the black poison.

"Remember when we had that stupid argument?" I ask suddenly, laughing. "About going out to hunt or something?"

"I remember," he says, smiling weakly. "If I had listened to you, I wouldn't be like this

"I just wanted to tell you to take care of my family when you win," he says, his breath ragged. "My girlfriend Alexa, and Benji… he's so sweet. I couldn't just let him die here."

"I understand," I say. "More than you know."

right now."

"Well, if I had listened to you and not set any traps, then the mutts wouldn't have come for us, and you would be okay."

"You were just trying to feed us."

"I was trying to prove that I was right."

He coughs, and it sounds painful. I feel the pain through my own chest. I help him take another drink, and he gasps when he's finished. "When I asked you and Sock to be my allies, I told you that I would protect you because I didn't want either of you to have to kill. And instead I've left all the killing to you, and I haven't made a single kill. Sock is dead. I couldn't protect you I couldn't even protect myself."

I lower my head. "You protected me when the Careers almost had us on that cliff. And you protected me during the bloodbath."

"I couldn't even protect my own mother," he says sadly, like he didn't even hear me.

"You protected Benji," I say sharply. "And Sock's death was her own fault, you know that. Do you think I don't miss her? Do you think I don't miss my family? You don't know what I could have done to protect them, and didn't do?"

I feel the tears start to run down my face now. If I win, then Tag and I will have to switch lives forever, hoping against hope that we're never found out. I could have just volunteered in his place, but because of my own shock at his Reaping, I missed my chance.

Seb thinks that he's the incompetent one here, but looking at everything I've done, this is all my fault. All of my clever tricks are just ways to try to resolve my own mistakes.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

I returned to the cave after fleeing from the demonic creature at the Cornucopia. I thought that I had been following Nikki, determined to slice her neck open and watch her blood cascade down her body and soak her tribute outfit, but I apparently lost track of her in the darkness. I settled down in the caves for the night anyway, trying to seem calm and collected for the cameras, just upset that my victim has gotten away.

I don't show that I'm secretly trying not to throw up at the thought of the demon that almost ripped me to shreds. That's surely what it was doing there, and it might even have followed me back here. I keep my sword in hand as I try to sleep, but not very successfully. I wake up the next morning feeling like I haven't slept at all, the rays of sun shining in my face startling me. I sit up quickly, checking with my heart racing to make sure that the demon isn't anywhere in the vicinity. I don't see it anywhere, so hopefully I'm safe. Maybe it only comes out at night. This wouldn't be the first time the Gamemakers have set vicious mutts on tributes multiple times, just to torment them until it all ends in a bloody climax.

I had dreamed of Price. I had thought about him for the first time in a long time yesterday, when I was fighting Nikki. I almost feel bad that he had completely left my mind for almost two weeks, even though I know he would understand. He knows that the Games are most important to me than anything. He even agreed not to do an interview for the Capitol, so as to keep up the appearance that I was available to the sponsors. Attractive tributes who are known to already be in relationships don't receive as many patrons from the Capitol. Apparently people are delusional enough to think they might have a chance with me if I win, but not if I have a boyfriend.

What sorts of thoughts am I thinking? Treason against the Capitol? Sponsors are an important part of the Hunger Games, practically sacred. I owe my life to the people of the Capitol who have given their money to help me win. Except… I don't, do I? I haven't received a single sponsorship these whole Games. Not that that isn't unusual for Careers who have the supplies they need, but why did I think I needed them in the first place? What has the Capitol ever done for me? It was the Academy that trained me, my parents that fed me. They worked hard for their money and for their family.

I stand, angrily packing away all of my food and water. I came here with one goal in mind, and it wasn't just to kill mindlessly or to impress some tattooed Capitol sitting in his perfumed living room, eating candied grapes and wondering if I'll get my head chopped off today. I came here so that I could achieve something; _really_ achieve something, to impress my District and honor everyone that's believed in me for so long.

The demon can come if it wants. I'm not afraid of it.

 _Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M_

Every breath I take is agony, but I know it won't last for much longer. I've never been afraid of death, but now I feel the instinctual fear of the unknown, the thought of ceasing to exist, clog up my throat with terror. The thought of never seeing Alexis again, or holding her hand and sleeping beside her, makes me more sad than anything. It makes me want to jump to my feet and pick out a weapon, and go stalking for the remaining tributes. If I was at my best, I could surely take them on. Just a pair of pretty girls with blood in their hair, is all they are. And yet…

"Take another drink of water, Seb." Tag lifts the bottle to my mouth. I gently take a sip, trying not to waste too much. He wants me to be comfortable, but I have to think about what will happen to him after I'm gone.

I knew that I likely wouldn't be the one taking him the victor's crown, but I at least hoped that my death would be less painful.

How will Tag be able to take out two trained Careers, even if they are also pitted against each other? He took out Filly, but that was because he caught her by surprise and she was a lunatic. He wouldn't stand a chance in a battle against the wicked girl from Four, who wields a trident like an extension of her arm.

"Tag," I croak out, and he leans in closer to hear me. "You have to let one of the Careers kill the other one. Then try to pick her off from far away. Don't try hand-to-hand combat."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" he scoffs. "I wouldn't take them on if I wasn't forced to."

"Don't even if they try to force you," I continue insistently. "Run if you have to. Run for hours. You're small and quick, and they're carrying heavy weapons. Outrun them until you can get a clear shot. PLay to your strengths."

"I'm not sure being small helps with running faster," he says doubtfully, but nods anyway when he sees the expression on my face. "Fine. I won't get into any fights."

"You're going to be the youngest victor of the Hunger Games, you hear me?"  
Tag grins. It's been rare to see him smile in all the time that I've known him. It seems like years, but it's only been a few weeks. "That does have a nice ring to it."

I muster all of my strength to reach into my pocket and take out the locket Alexis' mother gave to me before I left for the Capitol. I remember the desperation in Alexis' eyes in our last goodbye; the confusion that she was experiencing; the gratitude that I had saved her brother, the horror as she realizes that means I will be dropped into the arena myself. I rub my thumb over the grooves of the golden heart.

"Tag, help me stand up."

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea," he says, unsure. "You need to save your strength."  
"I've been laying here for hours," I sigh. "Please."

He hesitates for a second, then leans down to grab my arm and gently pull me up. I grab his shoulder and shakily straighten out my body. My vision whites out for a second, but then stabilizes. I actually feel better than I have in days. I can hear the birds chirping above us as they migrate back to the shore.

"Thank you." I breathe in deeply. I can feel the fresh air filling my lungs. I peer up at the mountain above us, wondering if any tributes could be hiding up there after the fire burned out. Amidst the burnt trees and blackened rocks, the ashes of life scattered over the mountainside, I suddenly see something else black and odd, like a figure standing there watching us. I feel my stomach instantly drop, eyes zipping back to where it was standing, but it's gone.

"Something wrong?" I hear Tag ask.

"No," I say. "I'm fine."

And I am. I feel the blood- or is it the poison?- rushing through my veins. I feel stronger that I've felt since the hovercraft dropped us off under the arena. I curl my hands into fists, scanning the horizon.

"We need to stay alert, okay? Give me your knife."

"Are you sure?" Tag asks, sounding uncomfortable. "I have my crossbow."

"Good. Don't use it until I tell you to."

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

I began my search of the caves with a hopeful heart, but now it's heavy again. I thought for sure that Nikki would be hiding somewhere in here, afraid to come out and face me after almost being bested at the Cornucopia, or maybe that the pair of boys would be here since this is where Hadrian and I found them last time. But I've been searching for what feels like hours- though who can tell; I can't see the sun in here- and haven't seen another living being.

I hear the sounds of insects every once and awhile, only for them to stop as soon as I enter each cave. There are animal bones scattered here and there, sometimes bits of fur that show either an animal fight happened here or something else; but no tributes. I don't even find any lost supplies. Wherever my enemies are, they're holed up somewhere good. I feel my ears pulse with ager as I keep pushing onward, eventually realizing there's no point in trying to find someone in this maze of caves. I'll have better luck elsewhere.

As I find my way out, I pass by the cave with the rippling black liquid. It moves gently, despite there being no wind inside the caves. It's too black for me to peer inside, but it gives me the chills. I shiver as I walk past it and try to ignore the sensation of being followed. I've been alone for too long, even though Hadrian only died a few days ago. It will be a relief to see my family again, to get back to laughing at the dinner table with Price and our friends and trying to cook fancy Capitol recipes that one of our parents ate while they were there a few summers ago.

I reach up to the necklace around my neck as I finally step out into the bright sunlight. The sapphire glints beautifully in the light, the carving of the family crest illuminated. I trace it absently with my fingers as I take in my surroundings. The river is flowing gently as ever, the fires on the mountains long burned away. The arena is almost too quiet.

No one would dare head back to the beach after what happened during the storm. Even glancing over at it, I feel like I can see a shadow of the sea monster, rippling underneath the surface.

The Cornucopia is an obvious landmark for any tributes seeking shelter, but the idea of returning there as well makes my skin crawl. What is the demon is waiting for us there, waiting for anyone that crosses its path?

 _What if it's waiting for me?_ I shake the thought away. The Gamemakers don't sen mutts after specific tributes very often, only if the audience hates them and they wouldn't make a good victor. But that wouldn't happen to me… would it?

 _You did kill a pregnant girl,_ I remind myself. I have no control over that, though. I argue back and forth with myself. I tried to save her baby the best I could. If it didn't survive, that's not my fault. She was Reaped. She was going to die anyway.

I realize I've been standing here for far too long. The audience is probably watching me from their homes and parties, wondering what I'm going to do. The only true Career left, alone and scared by a simple muttation. I start to walk along the river, just for something to do. It seems like a likely place for a tribute to hide, anyway. I might come across someone. And even if I don't, it gives me a nice view in all directions to anticipate attacks. From tributes, mutts, and everything in between...

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_

My journey to the Cornucopia is long. Not necessarily because of the distance, but because of my reluctance. I walk slowly, uncaring of the red hot sun that beats down on me from above. I take another swig of water, watching as the sand before me ripples like a mirage. Something will be waiting for me at the golden horn, I'm sure of it. The question is just what.

I hold my spear low to the ground as the Cornucopia comes into view, but tighten my grip on it. As I draw closer, it takes on more of a shape, the mouth revealing the colors of the supplies hidden inside. I see a human figure standing beside the edge and stop in my tracks for a second, wondering if I made the wrong call and the terrible mutt from last night is here to rip me apart. But I realize it's actually another person, just as I hoped. I wearily raise my spear, approaching with caution.

The figure isn't Tiffany, or the little kid. It must then be the guy from Seven, the one who killed his own father. I snort to myself as I approach. It seems I'll be doing the world a favor by getting rid of him.

He stares at me as I come closer, unmoving. He appears to be unarmed, standing with arms at his sides. His gaze is a little unsettling as I get closer, but I imagine I don't look my best either. However, as he comes more into focus, I realize he's covered in black lines that extend all over his body, his face, arms, neck, even his hands. And then I see that he's actually not unarmed, but carrying a small knife.

"Had a bad couple of weeks, I see," I call over to him, just to see how he would react. He frowns at me, but doesn't say a word. The expression doesn't quite reach his eyes, either.

"Not much of a talker? You weren't in training either. The only people you ever talked to were those little kids from Eight." I glance around again, trying not to seem too nervous. He is the only ten-scorer left aside from me, after all. "Is that one here with you today? I know the girl died in the bloodbath."

He doesn't answer, but I see his eyes harden.

"I didn't kill her," I say defensively, gripping my spear tighter and bringing it up over my shoulder. I should be ready if he lunges at me suddenly. "I don't know who did. Do you?'

"It was the boy from Two," he says lowly. His voice is deep and loud. I can see his veins pulsing with the black liquid. It makes my stomach twist and turn at the sight.

"Ah, Hadrian. I didn't like him much, either. Don't worry. Did your other little friend leave you after that? Or is he waiting to ambush me in the Cornucopia?"

More silence. I creep forward more, wondering why he doesn't raise his knife or advance toward me at all. Maybe the arena has messed with his head so much that he isn't worried about dying. Or maybe he doesn't care if he does. Either way, tributes who act strangely never bear well for their opponents. If he isn't in his right mind, who knows what he could do.

"Did you catch a bad cold or something?" I ask in reference to his blackened blood.

His lips curl into a smirk that chills my blood. The liquid pulses one last time before he suddenly lunges forward, knife in hand. I easily sidestep him, but terror fills me. The look in his eyes wasn't human; it was something that I've never seen in a person's eyes before.

I realize the real fight for my life has begun. I don't know what this guy did in his training session to earn a ten, but he's survived so far, and he killed someone before he volunteered.

I block another one of his blows with my spearpoint, parrying his own blade away. Surely he doesn't mean to best me with a knife while I have a long-range, far-reaching weapon. But he advances so quickly that he doesn't give me any time to recover, constantly having to dodge his slashes.

I remember what my parents taught me; how to win against these kinds of opponents.

"I never believed that story about your father," I pant heavily as I avoid yet another stab. "You didn't kill him because he hurt your mother, you just did it because you hated him. And you volunteered because you realized you loved killing."

I can see the rage in his eyes at these words, and I feel guilty for a second, wondering if they're even true. But there's no way of knowing why he did what he did, and I have to win this fight.

"I bet you enjoyed every kill you made in this arena. You didn't do it because you had to, but because you like it."

He roars ferociously, lunging forward with all his might, and I thrust my spear from my body, piercing into his hip as he tries to get to me. He screams in pain as black liquid flows from the wound, and his eyes turn dark as he focuses in on me.

I feel my breath start to come quickly. He shrieks as he slashes at me, seemingly unperturbed by the gash in his hip. I parry his knife away each time, the metal clanging sounds filling my ears until I can't hear anything else. I"m tiring myself out. I can't let this happen, not like it did with Tiffany. I need to save my strength.

As he slashes forward again, I duck his blade and roll away, bringing my spear back and letting it fly. It lands dead in his knee, making him fall to the ground. He yelps in pain again as I slowly, with hair in my eyes and heaving breath, walk over to him and pull it out. The spearpoint catches in his leg before it' agonizingly pulled out completely. He screams and tries to thrash away, apparently still human after all, underneath all of that bravado.

Black liquid soaks the ground, eagerly absorbed by the dry earth. I walk over him as he tries to crawl away. I grab the back of his jacket and pull him back around. "Just loving killing won't get you a victor's crown," I say quietly, raising my spear.

"You're right," he gasps, choking up more liquid. It flows down his face in rivulets. "But I'm not trying to get it for myself."

I feel a sudden pin prick of pain in my shoulder that turns into full blown agony in seconds. I wrench away from him, turning to see the little boy from Eight standing atop the Cornucopia, tears tracking down his face.

"You little-"

I kick the guy from Seven away from me, making sure to get him in the stomach, before advancing on my new opponent. It's only when I start to move that I realize there's a tiny arrow fitted in my shoulder. It strains when I move, making me grit my teeth. Another arrow flies past me, nearly hitting my face.

I hear a cannon resound throughout the arena, and I look back to see the murderer sprawled lifelessly on the ground. I can hear the little one howling with grief and anger.

"You bitch!" he hurls down at me, along with another rain of arrows. I barely avoid them, another one embedding itself in my hair. I turn tail and run, listening to his insults all the while as they slowly fade away. He won't be hard to kill the next time I come upon him, if I will at all.

The boy's last words play over and over in my mind. He really had played me. He planned to die all along to save his little companion, who then in turn would kill or injure me… at the cost of his own life. I feel my heart start to sink. I remember Jason and Eryn and feel like collapsing onto the sand.

So I do, my shoulder aching. I feel the sticky blood staining my clothes, and I reach up with a shaky hand to pull out the weapon, unable to keep from screaming .I quickly take off my jacket and tie it around the wound, but it's in such a strange spot that I don't know if I'll be able to apply enough pressure. After laying on the ground for a few minutes, I pick myself back up and begin running again. I don't even know where I'm going, the setting sun not helping with figuring out where I am. I float somewhere between the realm of the living and unconsciousness until I finally collapse onto the ground again, my blood slowly seeping into the sand.

* * *

 **Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Sadly, we lost Seb.**

 **4th:** _ **Sebastian "Seb" Cassara (18)- D7M.**_ **Created by MaxMan667. Killed by Nikki. Seb was one of the most interesting tributes in the Games, and I hope his arc was enough to satisfy his creator and the readers. He didn't necessarily have a happy ending, but he succeeded in doing the one thing he's always wanted to do, which is protect his loved ones. I'm definitely going to miss him.**

 **I was also informed that I was nominated for the 2018 SYOT Awards! I think I'm in the categories Best New Author and Best SYOT, and Spool Nylon is also in the running for Best Male Tribute. I can't explain how much this means to me, especially since this is my first Hunger Games fanfiction. I also hope Spool's creator, CragmiteBlaster, is equally as proud. If any of you want to check it out, you can find the page pretty easily by googling SYOT Awards 2018.**

 **Until next time~ Our victor will be crowned next chapter, so bare with me!**


	39. The Sixteenth Day: Victory

_Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

I can't hold back my tears as I climb hurriedly from the Cornucopia, collapsing beside Seb's body. His eyes are black and lifeless, staring at nothing. I won't be a fool and try to revive him' his cannon has already gone off. He's dead.

I take his hand and quietly cry for a few minutes before realizing where I am. Out in the open where either of my Career-trained opponents can see me. Not that the girl from Four will be coming back any time soon. I sob softly as I get to my feet, wiping my face and walking resolutely back to the golden horn. I need to leave Seb's body enough space so that the hovercraft will be able to retrieve him. I climb back onto the horn, though it's much harder without Seb helping me, and watch as the hovercraft materializes above us, reaching down to grab Seb and haul him back up. He'll get to be with his family in District Seven now. He would be happy. He wouldn't want to live out the rest of his days as a puppet for the Capitol; I know that. All I can do now is try to honor his memory by doing what needs to be done. I need to win.

I drape my crossbow across my lap, laying down so that no one can see me. It worked for the first girl, and it might work for the next. I stare up at the sky, so clear and blue. The sun is blinding, but that doesn't stop me. The sight of Seb lying there, his blood completely black and his eyes open and unseeing, his burned into my retinas. I need to burn it away.

I lie there for a long time, but don't hear anything. I might be here for a while. The sun slowly goes down, and I start to shiver, so I wrap myself in the sleeping bag that I dragged up here with myself, checking to see how much food I have before closing my eyes for the night. Tomorrow will be a long day.

I pretend I can't hear the echoing sounds of inhuman wailing across the desert.

 _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_

I had searched the bank for hours before giving up, finally setting up camp near the river. With any luck, someone will come by and I'll be able to make a kill. A cannon went off earlier, meaning there's only three of us left. The victor will likely be crowned tomorrow, perhaps the next day if the Capitol is willing to let it play out.

I watch the sky above me as it flashes with the insignia of the Capitol, then reveals the face of the boy from Seven. Damn it. I'm glad he's out of the competition, but Nikki is still alive, and probably was the one to kill him. She's my main opponent now, along with the little boy from Eight who will be easy to pick off. However, I realize I've only made three kills in the Games. Not necessarily a bad number, especially since I'll be theoretically making one more to win, bringing it to four. But five kills has an impressive ring to it, something that only the most worthy victors can achieve. It was already accomplished this decade by Cassius Cato, Hadrian's brother, but I know I can do it too, and prove District One's prowess in the Games to the country.

With these thoughts swirling in my brain, I finally put myself to sleep. Finding my opponents will be either getting easier to harder depending on how the Capitol chooses to deal with us, either herding us together or letting this play out on its own until one of us dies, then setting up the final showdown. I imagine since nothing has happened since the Seven guy's death that they are letting us track each other down. The thought brings a smile to my face. I was always the best at tracking in training, and I love a good ambush fight. I'll show all those spoiled, lazy Capitolites how it's done.

The next morning, I rise early and try to make my hair look presentable. This is definitely the longest I've gone without wearing makeup since I was twelve, although my stylists did try to give me some long-lasting Capitolite products. But my hair has become a ratty mess that just won't do for my final fights in the arena. I try running my fingers through it several times, taking out the biggest knots before pulling it into a ponytail.

I feel more like myself after improving my appearance, like I could be on my way to training in One right now. I do a few stretches and make sure I'm hydrated before setting out on the hunt. It's going to be a long day, and I might not find anyone if my opponents find each other first. If Nikki was the one to kill the guy from Seven, then she's probably on the tail of the little one from Eight as well. I need to find both of them, and soon.

I contemplate where to go, ultimately deciding on the Cornucopia as a prime location for scoping out the competition. There might be someone there already, in which case I'll be in for an immediate battle. I pump myself up before I start to run, trying to get into the right headspace. If I do this, then I'll get to see Price and my family again. I'll get to talk to sweet little Kara again and tell he all about my experiences. She'll be especially interested in my tales of fashion from the Capitol. I smile to myself just thinking about it, reaching up to touch my family crest that hangs around my neck.  
It's time to go home.

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_

I wake up to the feeling of water gently caressing my face. Did I fall asleep after swimming at the beach? No, my father wouldn't allow that; ready to order a cooldown before we went to bed.

I slowly open my eyes, seeing nothing but sand. I sit up slowly and the pain returns to me, and I remember with horror where I am: not back in Four or in training on the beach, but in the Hunger Games themselves.

I fell asleep with the water of the stream running over my forehead, sand entering my mouth. I'm lucky I didn't accidentally drown myself. I wince at the sharp pain radiating from my shoulder and abdomen. The wound Tiffany gave me in my side isn't deep, but it stings like hell. However, the puncture wound in my shoulder is a problem. Judging by the red-stained sand around me, I lost a lot of blood while I was out. It's stopped bleeding now, unless I move too much. Hissing with agony, I rip off a piece of my pants and fashion it carefully into a bandage, wrapping it as tightly as I can around my shoulder. It stains slightly with blood, but remains mostly clean. A good sign.

I try to stand and my vision goes white, forcing me back down. A bad sign. I've lost a lot of blood, more than is healthy. I'm lucy that the Games will be over soon; I'll either be dead or in the Capitol in time for a transfer. That bratty little guy from Eight just had to shoot me. I wouldn't think someone so small would have such good aim, but alas, I was wrong.

I feel my eyes fill with tears for some reason, and I frown in confusion. Pain doesn't influence me that much anymore, so what is going on? The tears flow over my cheeks and spill onto my neck, making me sniffle. I wipe them away, but they keep coming, like a waterfall that I just can't stop. I hear myself sob quietly and bury my face in my knees so the cameras can't see my face. I don't think I've cried in years, ever since Marcus died .What is wrong with me?

Oh, Marcus… my sweet brother who loved to watch the fish in the ocean with me, until our parents corrupted him and taught him to start catching and killing them instead. I stood aside while they took my brother from me and watched him die on a screen in our living room, crying as my parents didn't shed a tear, even scolded me for it. Then I watched Jason save that poor little girl from Twelve, even if I didn't want him to, and then watched them both die as well, gasping out their last breaths on the sand like fish. After that, I was the one to kill a helpless child, and then another tribute who just wanted to protect his little ally.

The tears don't stop for several minutes, during which time I can feel the heavy sobs wracking my body. I can feel the sticky tears soaking my clothes, and feel the pricks of pain in my shoulder and side every time I move, but somehow I don't feel present, like I'm not really here. When my tear ducts finally run dry, I lift my face from my lap and wipe away my face quickly, my vision blurry either from the tears, the bloodloss, the pain, or maybe something different. I sniffle a few times before gently lying back down, staring up at the sky. Who cares if I win or not? What kind of victory would I have, what kind of life would I live? One without Jason, without my brother, without a loving family, my every move watched and analyzed by the Capitol, my body likely sold for the entertainment of others. That's no life.

I slowly lay back down on the sand. If I die here, so be it. I don't care what happens to me now.

 _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_

I've been waiting for anything to happen since I woke up this morning, sweating through my clothes. The metal of the Cornucopia is hot underneath me, and I have to sit on my sleeping bag to prevent burning my skin. I can feel a droplet of sweat run down my back as I sharpen my knife on a sharpening stone I found inside the golden horn. My crossbow will be my main weapon, but I'll probably have to meet someone in close combat at some point. A large weapon won't do me any good- I'm too small- but this small knife will be able to do a lot of damage if it's sharp enough. I remember what Seb told me about winning before he died. I have to win, for my family, for his, and for Seb himself. I can't let my emotions get the better of me right now, no matter how much I want to curl into a ball and never get up again.

I hear a strange noise coming from my right, and I look over to see someone trekking toward me. A lump in my throat, I slowly lower myself down, hoping she hasn't seen me. It's the blond girl from One. It seems she finally caught up with me after all.

She doesn't say anything as she approaches. Maybe she really didn't see me. I quietly string my crossbow, pulling it back. The tip of the arrow gleams in the sunlight and I swallow nervously. My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest.

I slowly peer over the edge of the Cornucopia to see her rifling through a crate of food, throwing away the rotted fruits and vegetables. I eye her exposed neck, wondering if I could take her out in one shot. Surely it's worth a try; she seems uninjured and unbothered- not the kind of tribute I'd be able to face in drawn-out combat. I lift my crossbow as quietly as I can, aiming for the strip of skin I can see above her jacket. Just before I let the arrow fly, she spots me above her and her eyes widen, leaping away.

I curse as I stand, quickly trying to reload the bow. I clumsily drop one arrow and reach for another, by which time my opponent has started looking for ways to climb up the golden horn herself. I let loose another arrow, this one narrowly missing her as she ducks just in time.

"It's over, little one," she hisses, pulling herself up over the grooves of the Cornucopia. "It's time to go home."

"I'll be going home alive!" I scream, shooting another arrow. This one embeds itself in her thigh, making her shriek with pain. She looks up to me from her wound, her eyes shocked and angry.

"You shot me!" She lunges forward, tackling to the top of the boiling hot Cornucopia. She raises her sword, but I kick her in the stomach and manage to wiggle my way out from underneath her. My size does come in handy sometimes, but my crossbow has unfortunately fallen over the side of the Cornucopia.

I unsheathe my knife and stand my ground as she gets to her feet, one hand covering where her thigh is slowly bleeding down her leg. "Don't make this difficult, little one. I don't want a young one like you to suffer."

I spit at her feet, lunging forward when she doesn't expect it. She easily parries my knife with her sword, but the curve in the blade flicks up to slice my cheek open. The cut stings as I regain my balance, barely able to steady myself before falling over the edge.

She advances on me again, this time slicing me open before I can even try to block her. I scream in agony as I feel my chest start to bleed. I fall to my knees. I can hear her panting triumphantly above me, and the droplets of my own blood as they drop onto the metal below us.

"Don't be upset," she says, out of breath. "Third place is honorable."

"First if better," I spit. Then I quickly wrap my arms around her and pull her past me, so that we're both flying through the air for a few moments, nothing but her high-pitched scream filling my ears. The impact is hard, but I get up as soon as I can, watching her struggle to lift up her head. She spits up some blood, her eyes wide and frightened as I grab the sword out of her hand and bring it down onto her neck, slicing it open. Her blood erupts from the gash in her throat, gushing onto her clothes and into the sand.

Her cannon goes off in just a few seconds. I heave a sigh of relief, and then one of pain. I reach for my stomach, groaning as I realize I may have killed my enemy, but I've made my own wound much worse. I think I can feel my muscles moving inside me, sliced and disjointed. I don't dare look at the wound. Instead, I hobble over to the supplies inside the horn, rummaging for anything to help me. I easily find some bandages and an ointment to heal the cut, and I gingerly apply some before wrapping my body in the pure white bandages. They immediately are stained red, but I ignore it and cover it with my shirt.

It's just me and the girl from Four now. Where is she hiding? Where will our final battle take place?

I glance back at the body of the blonde girl, her pretty face pale and empty. Not here. The hovercraft needs to recover her body, and then the Gamemakers will surely push us together in one way or another.

"Sorry, brother," I say aloud. "I said I would be back in two weeks, tops, but I was wrong. But I'll be home soon."

 _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_

I don't know how long I lay motionless on the sand, drifting in and out of sleep, when the cannon goes off. I bolt straight up, momentarily forgetting my injuries and wincing in pain. I flex my shoulder carefully, sighing loudly to myself. I really am apart of the final two. It's what I've wanted for so long, isn't it? So why do I feel so defeated?

I slowly wobble to my feet. My head feels heavy, my feet dragging. I hear something in the distance and I stare over the horizon, squinting at the blue sky. What is that noise? It sounds like a screech of a thousand puppies morphed into one horrible squeal. As I watch, I can see small brown dots start to appear, swarming together and moving over the sand of the desert, closer and closer…

Shit. Now isn't the time to lay in the water and lament over my life. I instinctively grab everything I can carry, leaving behind a few pack of food as I start to run in the opposite direction, toward the shore. I have a feeling I won't be needing food for much longer anyway.

My side flames with pain as I run, and I can feel it start to bleed into my clothes. My shoulder seems to be holding up, but I still need medical attention, and fast. I stumble once or twice but manage to right myself each time, telling myself there's no way that whatever horror is following me will make it down to the beach, past the cliff and the waterfall. I can hear the creatures howling and snarling behind me, even though I know they are still far away. The sound sends shivers down my body. I turn back to see hordes of canine animals, foaming at the mouth, their howls and barks sounding like the screams of children, yipping at each other and at their prey: me.

I pick up the pace, adrenaline rushing through my veins. If I die today, I don't want it to be a horribly painful one, dogs tearing me apart and making my body completely indistinguishable. I'd rather die by Tiffany's sword.

When I reach the cliff, I take in a few deep, panicked breaths before lowering myself over the waterfall, ignoring my protesting shoulder. By the time I'm at the bottom, it's bleeding openly as well. I'm sure I make quite a sight for the cameras, blood staining my body and outfit, my hair dripping with sweat. The Capitol will be eating it all up, and they'll do the same if these dogs manage to tear me limb from limb.

I pant and watch the cliff above me, listening as the noises of the canines grow louder and louder. Where should I go? There's nowhere for me to run, except alongside the cliff. Where is my opponent? Surely that's why the Gamemakers sicced a pack of rabid mutts on us- to force us together for the final fight. I raise my spear, poised to strike anyone or anything that appears over the cliff.

When it does happen, I'm caught off-guard. The figure is small, panting heavily, and apparently unaware of my presence as it begins to climb down the waterfall. It's not Tiffany at all, but the little boy who shot me in the shoulder! I feel my insides boiling with anger. How dare this twelve-year old deprive me of the chance to kill Tiffany, Jason's murderer? How dare he injure me with a tiny little crossbow that I could snap in half? I see it dangling behind his back right now.

Fury twisting my judgement, I pull my spear back and throw it, hard, at the little boy. It sinks into his leg, and he cries out in pain as he falls to the sand. He didn't have far to fall, but he's still small, so maybe I've neutralized my threat in one blow. The odds don't seem to be in my favor, however; he stands and pulls the spear from his calf, breathing heavily and fuming at me. I run toward him and the cliff above us suddenly becomes darkened with the bodies of a hundred wolf mutts, all howling and screaming and screeching their approval for the fight. It's nice to have an audience.

"You should've with your ally, kid," I tell him, advancing toward him. I stop in my tracks as he pulls a knife on me, slowly creeping toward the ocean, his leg dragging uselessly behind him. He waits until my back is to the dogs until he speaks.

"Keep him out of your mouth."

Just as I lunge for my spear that's laying on the sand next to me, the knife flies from his hand, and simultaneously a thunderous roar fills my ears as the sea monster erupts from the water.

 _Spool Nylon (12)-D8M_

My knife barely misses the girl as I duck to the ground, pure terror filling me. What the hell is going on? I turn behind me to see the water swirling and thrashing about, a ginormous reptile head emerging from it. It emits another roar as the tail flicks out of the water and over our heads. It stares right at us as it roars again, its mouth filled with rows and rows of teeth.

Panicking, I grab my crossbow and get to my feet, hearing strange noises coming from my own mouth as I flee. The pain coming from my leg is incredible, almost enough to overpower the pain from my chest. I can do this. I remind myself. I hear another roar behind me, and I turn to look when I see a flash of brown hair as the girl tackles me to the ground.

I scream in pain and instinctively try to struggle free, slapping uselessly against her neck and chest. She tries to raise her spear to shove it into my body, but the shaft is too long and she can't lift it high enough before I knee her in the stomach and wriggle free. I take the time to load my crossbow as she laying on the ground, her abdomen dripping blood onto the sand. I hear the sea monster roar behind me as I aim my bow, the tip of my arrow pointed at my opponent's exhausted face.

Just as I let the arrow fly, something knocks against me from behind and sends me sprawling to the ground. The arrow misses and impales the sand. I growl as I try to stand up, eyes widening when I see the face of the sea monster above me, roaring. It's almost as tall as the mountain, so large that much of the water in the ocean is displaced. I can see pieces of wood, broken sails and ships peeking out from the lowered water level. Up at the top of the mountain, the creatures roars again. Standing there at the precipice of the mountain, I see a strange dark figure reaching to touch the creature's neck. When it does, the monster screeches again, the sounds of twenty-two taken lives pouring out.

I struggle to my feet, groaning in pain when the muscles in my chest shift, agonizingly stringing my bow again. I see Nikki get up in the corner of my eye. I can feel my leg bleeding freely onto the ground. I need to finish this battle, and quickly.

I pull my bowstring taut and automatically zone in on her neck just as she turns to snarl at me, lunging forward. I don't have any memory of the arrow leaving the bow, but the next thing I know, the point is stuck in her throat, and she falls to the ground with a choking sound, hands coming pu to grasp at her neck. I fall to the ground along with her, listening to the roars and screeches of the monster above us before it finally descends back into the water, the sea leveling out and becoming a true ocean again.

The sky transforms from a dark grey to the normal blue, cloudless and beautiful. My vision is getting blurrier by the second, but I can see a lone seagull fly overhead. I can hear Nikki choking on her blood not far away, her foot twitching near me. It's taking quite a while for her to die, so long that I hope my leg will still be saveable by the time the hovercraft comes for me. I close my eyes, the blue sky swirling away into nothingness.

I don't even realize the hovercraft has grabbed me until I'm already moving, rising into the air. My head and limbs hang in the sky as my body is lifted into the sky and slowly hauled into the hovercraft. Sets of hands grab at me as soon as the craft's door is closed, one of them sticking my arm with a sedative. I don't have the energy to fight them, but I try to keep my eyes open for as long as I can. Still, my final thought before I go under is _I wish everyone would stop touching me..._

…

The first thing I notice when I wake up is that I'm lying on some kind of hard, cold surface. The air is cool against my skin. It's so strange to not feel like I'm dying of heatstroke. I'd gotten so used to it that I almost didn't notice it anymore.

I don't dare open my eyes, too afraid that this is all a dream. What if I'm simply hallucinating this, and I'll wake back up in the arena, lying on the burning hot gold of the Cornucopia? I feel my breath start to come quicker. I didn't hear Claudius Templesmith announcing my victory. This isn't real, it isn't real, it isn't real…

"Tag Nylon?"

My eyes fly open by instinct. Someone is standing above me, her perfectly tailored eyebrow raised.

"Yes?" I ask, my voice hoarse. My throat feels dry and crusty.

She turns away, refusing to say anything more. She hands me a small plate of yogurt and dense bread, then walks out of the room, the glass door closing behind her. At the press of a button, handcuffs around my wrists and ankles that I didn't know were there are released. I slowly lift up my hand, stretching out my fingers. My thigh is in a cast, and so numbed that I can't even feel any pain. My stomach and chest are wrapped in a bandage, but when I slowly sit up, I can feel the skin stretching painfully. I reach for the plate of food, gratefully devouring it in a few minutes. Nothing has ever tasted so good after eating nothing but warm fruit and half-raw cat meat. I gulp down a glass of ice-water on the counter, glancing around the room. The room is small with glass walls that reflect the interior, but I imagine it allows people to look in at me. There's nothing except the bed and the counter, all with rounded edges. As soon as I finish my yogurt, an intercom buzzes and a woman's voice begins to speak.

"Lay back down and put your arms and legs in the cuffs."  
I glare at the glass door, but do as she says. As soon as I do, the handcuffs snap back into place. The woman returns through the door. She doesn't speak to me or even look at me, avoiding my eyes as she sticks me with another needle. The sedative causes me to laugh for a second before I go under again, the bright light above me disappearing.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hope you're all doing well. I know this chapter took a while to write; I blame Thanksgiving. I hope everyone is happy with the way the Games ended, and with our victor. Writing this story has been so fun and fulfilling, so I hope you have had just as much fun reading it.**

 **3rd)** ** _Tiffany Silk (18)- D1F_** **\- created by Greywolf44. Killed by Spool. Tiffany was a very interesting kind of Career- she didn't volunteer so that she could kill people or be a vicious villain- she simply wanted to prove herself and bring honor to her district. It's a shame that she decided to do this through the Hunger Games, especially because it ended in her death, and caused her to question her own beliefs in the first place.**

 **2nd)** ** _Nicolette "Nikki" Anderson (17)- D4F_** **\- created by domgk115. Killed by Spool. Nikki lived a tragic life, so much so that the Games actually brought her a brief moment of happiness with Jason. She lived through the death of her brother and the constant pressure of her parents, and Jason was the only one to ever love her for who she was. I think that because of all of this, Nikki would be okay with not winning, especially because Tiffany didn't win. She finally can rest from her troubles.**

 **1st)** ** _Spool Nylon (12)- D8M_** **\- created by CragmiteBlaster. Our victor! I have to admit, when I started writing this, I didn't think I would end up with Spool as my victor. He's only twelve, after all. But as time passed before the Games began, I realized just how much potential he had as a character. He's been through a lot by now, the death of Sock, of Seb, and now through killing three people. He's definitely someone that deserved to win, and who had the smarts to get it done. I hope everyone is happy about his victory! (Though Tiffany and Nikki's creators probably aren't xD).**

 **There will still be two more chapters in this story, so stay tuned if you're interested! However, I'm not sure when I'll churn them out since the end of the semester is coming up, which means tons of work.**

 **But I do have some other news: I'm going to write a sequel! Lots of people have been asking for it, so I'm going to go ahead and do it. I won't be accepting any submissions until this story is completely finished, but you can start thinking about characters if you'd like.**

 **Thanks so much for reading!**


	40. The Finish Line

**Hey everyone! I hope you're doing well. I don't have an excuse for being so late with this chapter other than the holidays and being lazy. But here is the second to last chapter! Hopefully the last one will be here next week.**

 **I've had some questions about the tribute applications for the sequel- please don't send them in until I post the official application on my profile. There will be some changes to the one I used for this story. However, you can go ahead and start writing things for your tribute's personality, family, things like that. remember, everyone can submit up to three tributes this time, and I will accept up to three applications for each tribute slot before deciding which to use. I will try to accept at least one tribute from everyone who submits :).**

 **As for the sponsor points, I've decided I'm going to transfer 15 points to the next story for everyone who has over 50 points currently. If you have less that and would like to keep your points, just PM me before the next chapter is posted and I will keep them. The point in doing this is so that I don't keep 5 or 10 points for someone who isn't reading the story anymore and probably won't read the sequel. All of the names and numbers crown up my profile and make it hard to read xD.**

 **And now for the chapter~**

* * *

 _Spool Nylon (12)- Victor of the 77th Hunger Games_

After being restrained to my bed for so long, it feels strange to stretch my legs. As I take a sip of my orange juice, I glance around the room. I know the Gamemakers and trainers are probably all watching me right now, just like they have for the past forty-eight hours, anxiously waiting to see if I'll lose it or become an easily manipulated victor. I know I'm going to have to walk the line between both, so I make sure to keep my expressions neutral and a little hostile, but my posture relaxed and natural.

I feel the cool orange juice fill my empty stomach as I finish the glass. They haven't let me had real solid food yet except for some soft bread, but anything is better than living on an empty stomach. I gingerly stand as the woman on the other side of the room continues to arrange syringes on the counter. She walks over to me wordlessly and grabs my arm roughly, injecting me with whatever substance is in the syringe. I wonder, not for the first time, if the Capitol is using these substances to control me in some way, but there's nothing I can do about it now. I wince as she injects me again, trying not to imagine the point of the needle sticking into my bone. I lick my lips nervously as I try to stay relaxed.

I just try to think about my family. I'll get to see them soon, get to hug my parents and run around the district with Tag and the other Sock Knights. As the youngest victor of the Hunger Games in history, my family will never have to want for anything. We'll have enough money to help out the other Sock Knights and anyone else that needs it. The district will be fed with the extra rations from the Capitol, and the Capitol itself will love me too. All I have to do is get through the next few days, and everything will be perfect.

A few hours later, the woman comes back and brings me a new outfit. It's pure white just like the one I'm currently wearing, but this own has silver buttons and is more tailored, obviously meant to be worn in front of others.

"What is this for?" I ask, but she ignores me as usual. "Am I going to my interview?"  
"The interview is tomorrow," she says placidly. "Come with me now, and I'll take you to your mentors."

I can't help but grin. It's been so long since I've seen anyone but this woman, and I have no idea how much time has passed. A day? A week? I know better than to ask her; she won't give me an answer.

She leads me out of the room and into a plain white hallway, the walls completely bare like in my waiting room. Except at the end, I can see my mentors and the escort for District Eight sitting on a white couch. When they see me, Cecelia jumps up and runs to wrap me in a hug.

"We knew you had it in you, Tag," she says, sounding tearful. I can only imagine what it had been like to watch the children she had mentored die year after year. Now I'll have the same pleasure.

"Thank you, Cecelia," I say politely. I nod to the others, trying not to grimace at the escort, who is nearly vibrating with excitement.

"The first twelve-year old victor!" she squeals, doing a little dance. "Do you have any idea what this means, Tag?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Now, is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Your interview is tomorrow. We're taking you up to your room for the night, and we'll prepare you in the morning. The interview is in the evening. I swear, Tag, you're going to be the most famous victor in history! Everyone is impressed with you, there isn't a person who is upset about you winning."

 _Except every other district._ "That sounds great. Let's get on with it, then."

…

The District Eight floor is just how I remember it, as if I hadn't gone away for over two weeks. The only thing missing is Sock, chatting with Cecelia about the best way to build muscle fast, staring out the window at the Capitol citizens below, her presence always strong enough to know she meant business. My room is just the same as I left it, except a pair of pajamas is neatly folded on the chair beside the bed.

"Are you sure you don't want dinner before bed?" Cecelia asks uncertainly. "I know what they feed you right afterward. Wouldn't you like a real meal?"

"I'll eat tomorrow," I say.

"Alright then. Have a good night."  
The door clicks shut. I walk to the window and stare down below. Just on the other side of this wall, looking out the sitting room window, is where I told Sock my true identity. She's the last person that will ever be able to call me by my real name. _What's in a name, though_? I ask myself. _I still remain the same._

The night is restless. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, but I can't even lay down for too long without feeling antsy. Surely I'll get the prep for my victor's interview tomorrow, but I still can't help but go over it again and again in my head. Everyone will be fascinated with me- the youngest Hunger Games victor in history. I imagine most of the interview will revolve around that topic, but they'll also ask me about Seb, and about the tributes I killed. I'll have to watch their deaths on the big screen as they play the abridged version of the Games for me and the audience, while cameras closely catch my every reaction. I'll have to see Sock killed in the bloodbath, see every injury, every poisoning, every slow death. My main goal for tomorrow is to just seem unaffected, or at least proud of what I've accomplished.

After all, the Capitol isn't the only place that will be thrilled about my victory- District Eight is probably eagerly awaiting my return as well. My heart speeds up as I think about Tag and my parents, all waiting for me to return home.

I eventually fall into an uneasy sleep with my head pressed against the window, watching the never-sleeping city on the other side.

…

"Try and keep things light," Cecelia says as she straightens my suit jacket. It's reminiscent of the one from my first interview: the same deep purple color, but not as bright and sparkly, as if to make me look more mature now that I'm a murderer. They've also redyed the fringe of my hair back to purple as well, after it faded during the Games. It looks better than any time I've dyed it myself. They've styled it up in a way that the stylist said recalls the classic style of Finnick ODair, the youngest victor until I came along, but I don't know enough about Capitol fashion to notice it.

"Light? When they're talking about killing people?"

"You didn't win popularity through broodiness," she reminds me. "People like your humor. Be as clever as you want, but don't get upset if Caesar says something insensitive. He doesn't understand."

"He understands well enough," I growl, jerking away. "No one would care if Seb was serious during his interview."

"You're not Seb," Cecelia says sharply. "And it's not good to talk like that. Be fond if you want, but don't allude to someone else winning."

"Fine."

I know she's just trying to help me- she's been through this all herself after all. If I want to survive the rest of my life as victor, I need to listen to her advice. Still, the idea of Seb fading into obscurity as my own popularity rises is simply unacceptable. I know he'll likely have a following here in the Capitol for many years, but eventually he'll be forgotten like all of the other tributes who have fallen in the arena, a name only for the Hunger Games historians and strategists.

The walk to backstage is unnerving. I remember the last time I was here, when twenty four people crowded this narrow hallway, chatting and arguing and eagerly awaiting our turn. Now I'm alone, standing in a dark hall, listening to the sounds of the excited crowd on the other side.

" _Is everyone ready to meet the victor of the 77th Hunger Games, our youngest victor ever?"_

The resounding shout of approval that follows sounds like the whole Capitol has been stuffed into Flickerman's studio. I stick my chin out a little and grin with all my teeth as Caesar presents me to the audience. The visor lifts and I walk out onto stage, the dazzling smile still plastered to my face. I wave at the crowd and hope I don't come across as too stiff or insincere. As I sit on the plush chair after shaking Caesar's hand, I resist the urge to cross my legs or arms, wanting to appear open and comfortable.

"A very warm welcome to you, Tag!" Caesar bellows, his bright yellow wig bobbing. "Panem is so excited to see you!"

"I'm excited too," I say, smiling tightly once more before forcing the expression off my face and into another more natural one. "It's good to be back, Caesar."

"We're so happy to have you back," Caesar says, matching my serious tone immediately. "It's been a long journey, hasn't it?"

"Very long. And difficult."

Caesar nods gravely. "What do you think was the hardest part about your time in the arena?"

The audience is dead silent. I glance at down at the front row and catch Cecelia's eyes. She grimaces at me, burying her face in her hands. I swallow as I pretend to ponder over my answer.

"Well, living without the Capitol showers was pretty difficult. I'd gotten so used to them while I was here."

Caesar breaks into a grin and chuckles as the audience erupts into laughter. I smile more naturally this time.

"You definitely must be happy to be back then," Caesar says with a gentle smile.

"I actually haven't had the chance to use a shower yet, Caesar," I say with a wrinkled nose. "Only gross baths. I thought I was supposed to get whatever I wanted now that I'm a victor." I look over my shoulder as if at my support team behind the stage.

The audience laughs again as Caesar makes an overly dramatic sympathetic face. "Let's hope no one gets fired."

"No, no," I wave dismissively, grinning as I adjust my suit jacket. "They're just doing their job. I'll have lots of time for Capitol luxury in my life."

"That's right," Caesar nods gravely. "I bet District Eight will want you to return every year to mentor the new tributes. You might be younger than most of them!"

"And they'll have to listen to me no matter what," I say with a grin. "Can you imagine me mentoring two eighteen-year olds alongside Cecelia?"

The audience laughs at the image as the camera pans to Cecelia. She waves to the camera shyly and gestures for it to move away. I wave back and smile as if we're closer than we are.

"My mentors are one of the major reasons that I'm here," I say, trying to sound a little choked up and feel the mood of the room change. "Without the support before the Games and the gifts that they gave me, Seb and I would never have been able to survive for as long as we did."

Caesar nods. "Well, it was your own ingenuity that kept Sebastian alive. That deal with the coconut? You read that in a book?"

"One about the adventures of the Knights of the Round Table," I say. "But it didn't work as well as I hoped. It cleaned some of his blood, but it killed him in the end."

"You helped him the best you could," Caesar says gravely. "He won fourth place despite being poisoned."

 _His placement doesn't matter now that he's dead,_ I think to myself, but the Capitol doesn't care about that. "He was a fighter," I say. "District Seven must be proud."

"Well, you'll be able to meet his family on the Victory Tour!" Caesar says excitedly, as if he were the one who would going on tour. The audience claps and screams happily, thrilled as ever for more drama from their beloved victors. My Tour is bound to be more eventful than ever as the youngest victor in history. Still, I'm sure there will be districts who are unhappy about my victory. Districts One and Four for starters.

"I'm looking forward to it," I say, but I'm not sure if I'm lying. Seb's family might be grateful for trying to help him survive, but that won't bring him back. If anything, our meeting will be brief and awkward.

"As is the rest of the nation!" Caesar beams, then turns to speak directly to a blinking camera at the front of the stage. "Before we recap this year's Games, we have a very special video message from Finnick ODair, the ma to hold the title of youngest victor before Tag here stole it from under his feet."

I raise an eyebrow in surprise, but try to smile and seem excited that one of the most famous victors in history will be speaking to me. I follow Caesar's lead and turn to the large screen behind us. Finnick Odair's familiar face pops up, smiling and friendly as ever. He's in his late twenties now, but the stylists have obviously tried to highlight his youth with a longer haircut and a clean-shaven face.

"Tag Nylon," his voice echoes in the large studio. He points a finger at the screen in mock anger. "I must say I didn't see it coming at first. But when you killed the girl from One with your crossbow, I thought I might be worried. And I was right."

I know what he means. We both won our Games due to an expensive weapon gifted by our sponsors. Finnick's famous trident remains one of the most expensive gifts ever given in the Games, and while my crossbow wasn't near the same price, it surely must have raised some red flags in his head. But I doubt the audience will be able to pick up on that.

"At first I loathed to hand over my title to someone else. But I must confess," he shrugs. "I'm impressed. Keep up what you're doing, and stay yourself. I'll see you in District Four!"

He waves enthusiastically and the screen goes black. The crowd goes wild as the cameras closely take in my reaction. "He's very nice," I say. "But he's the last to have to give up the title. No one can be younger than me since I'm twelve."

Caesar laughs. "Very true. You won't have any challengers!"

Finnick is nice, but I imagine he can't be as nonchalant as he seems. He was the Nicolette Anderson's trainer, and I barely managed to kill her on the beach. He's most likely furious to have lost the victory.

But it doesn't matter anymore. We're the same stock now- victors. We can have a friendly rivalry, but nothing more than that.

After a few more questions and a handful more jokes, we're ready to rewatch the Games. I try not to stiffen up too much as the bloodbath begins with a gong, somehow starting much quicker than I expected. The boy from Ten is killed first by the girl from Two. His name and place shows on the bottom of the screen- _Denver O'Casey- 24th_. The battle continues in this way, capturing every bloody detail. I watch Sock disobey Seb and hide in a box in the Cornucopia. I tense up as I wait for the moment of her death. When it finally comes, it's unexpected. The brutish boy from Two opens the box and she lashes out, striking through his shoulder as he roars in pain. He slashes across her waist and continues hacking at her until I feel like i might throw up. The cameras don't leave anything to the imagination. So it was the guy from Two after all, not even one of the girls that I killed.

Beside Sock, the Capitoline girl from Eleven is being gutted as well. The boy from One axes the girl from Six after her ally shoves her into him. The blind boy from Four escapes with his ally, and Nikki escapes with her ally from Six after killing the girl from Two. I watch as Seb and I run away from the golden horn, all the way to the beach. We had no idea what was to come.

As the Games drag on into the full three hour run time, I find it harder to keep my face neutral. I watch as the girl from Three is torn apart the mutts that chased me to the beach for the finale, as Nikki and her laly kill the girl from Seven on the beach, and the girl from Five throw down the boy from Two, Hadrian, and leave him paralysed at the foot of the mountain. Seb and I wander aimlessly, apparently not doing much from the viewer's perspective. I watch us argue and the ensuing disaster with his poisoning. I watch as I poison Sock's killer, his ally eventually leaving him for dead. Maybe I did avenge her after all.

I realize that I was very lucky. The Careers were not a cohesive team this year, after losing two of their members to other alliances and the ridiculous fight between Tiger and Hadrian, there was practically no chance that they would come out on top. Tiffany and Nikki almost best me at the end, but at that point it was too late. It's uncomfortable to watch my own ascent to victory due to the failures of others. Regardless, I need to seem proud and confident. When Seb dies, I allow myself to turn away from the screen for a few moments, but I don't even feel sad anymore.

The only thing that really disturbs me is the descent of the girl from Ten into madness. I thought she was crazy at the time, but I saw that dark figure as I was about to win the Games, and apparently the two Careers girls I killed saw it too. If Filly was doomed to die from the start, perhaps I did her a kindness by killing her quickly. I shiver as the camera shows the figure on the mountain as Nikki and I battle for our lives, eventually ending with my arrow through her throat. I try to smile naturally as the screen goes black again and the lights turn back on. I face the audience again and mouth _thank you_ at them, trying to sport a grateful smile. I'm not sure what I'm thanking them for, but it seems like the right thing to do. They enjoy it immensely, cheering and clapping louder than ever.

"You already have your own cult of followers," Caesar grins once the noise dies down.

"I'm so grateful to everyone," I say. "Especially those who sponsored me."

The studio erupts into laughter, but it isn't a joke.

"I'm sure you are," Caesar beams. "And they're grateful that their gifts paid off. Four kills as a twelve-year old, three of them eighteen! You're going to leave a spectacular legacy, and it's already begun!"

The audience cheers loudly. That will make a nice sound bite. But Caesar's got one thing wrong…

"I didn't kill Hadrian all by myself," I say. "Sock was the one that injured him. And that girl from Five- Amelia?- she did him even one better. All I did was scratch him with a venomous fang. I think they she get the credit."

"You're a very generous victor," Caesar says with a twinkle in his eye. "But I imagine it was satisfying to avenge your fallen ally, Sock, was it not?" The gleam in his eyes brightens. He leans forward as if to hear the details of my bloodlust for the District Two brute.

"I didn't know Hadrian had killed Sock when I scratched him," I say nonchalantly. "He was only trying to win like everyone else. He was a survivor, like Seb."

The comparison isn't an accurate one, I know. Seb volunteered to save his girlfriend's brother, and Hadrian did it to kill children. But I watched him in the Games, experiencing injury after injury, barely keeping his head above the shadow of Tiffany and his victor brother. He wasn't exactly the heartless killer that he made himself out to be.

The audience doesn't know how to react to that. It's not bloodthirsty or sweet or bitter. Maybe it's a little too real for them to comprehend, with their colored hair and brows and faces drawn tight against their skulls.

"Well, that's a just comparison," Caesar says with a smile. "They both scored ten, after all. And you killed two of them with just a score of eight! Not just a high score for a younger tribute, but also an outer district. District Eight certainly has a right to rub it in District Four's faces after you stole Mr. ODair's title!"

I smile evenly. "Seb was my ally, and he was very strong. I couldn't have made it without him. I owe him my life."

"And he would be proud," Caesar said solemnly.

I nod slowly. "He told Sock and I once that he wanted to help us because he had killed before, and he didn't want us to have to experience that. But in the Games, he didn't kill anyone and I had to do it. He wouldn't have wanted that."

"But he was proud of you, still, I'm sure," Caesar says with certainty. "Four kills with your age and training score is a huge number. And if he didn't win, he would have wanted you to. Don't be so hard on yourself. Am I right?" he asks the crowd loudly and they make noises of sympathy. Perhaps I should be glad that the Capitol is so supportive of me, without any resentment that I killed their favorites. But they're so fickle that I'm sure they would turn on me in a second. I'll never be safe again, even surrounded by so-called friends.

The interview ends after I show Caesar my decided talent- making and putting on puppet shows. I thought the mentors were joking when they first told me about it, but as I hear the excited coos from the audience as I talk about my supposed passion for it, I understand their choice. I have experience with puppets from my time with the Sock Knights- some of Eight's citizens will pay for a temporary escapade from this world to the child's world of puppets- but most victors have a more mature, productive talent. This one accentuates my youth as well as my skill for creating and being charismatic. I don't doubt that I'll have to put on shows for adoring Capitol citizens as they become seriously emotionally invested in my puppets.

"I can't wait for everyone to meet the Sock Knights!" I grin to the crowd. "I'll need their help to put on a performance. I'm sure you'll all love them!"

Caesar and I say our goodbyes soon after that. The interview is over before I even realize. The lights shut off as an Avox hurries on stage to usher me away. I turn to Caesar, wondering as I have many times before if he actually cares about the winners or is heartless like the rest of them, but he's already talking avidly to someone else.

Backstage, my prep team is chatty as they de-Capitolize me, full of praise for my stage presence. They say I held the audience's attention and even made them cry when I talked about Seb. One of them actually wipes away a tear as if he had ever felt true sadness in his life.

"Everyone is just _obsessed_ with you, Tag," another gushes as she washes my hair. "I'm not exaggerating when I say you'll be one of the most famous victors in history. What a Games! What a performance! You should be proud."

"Proud of killing?" I snap, unable to take it much longer. A hush grows over the room. They silently finish undressing me and leave with small murmured goodbyes. Perhaps I shouldn't be so harsh with them. If I was born in the Capitol, would I be any different?

Instead of leaving to go meet my escort, I walk to the window and stare out into the bustling city. I never thought I would see it, and now I'll have to return each year to mentor a new pair of tributes, watch them die bloody violent deaths and pretend to be excited.

I slip the bandanna that was my token in the arena out of my pocket, turning it over absentmindedly in my hands. Despite everything, I'm glad I did what I did. Tag wouldn't have made it in the Games, no question. Between his asthma and his fear of anything dangerous, he would have gone down in the bloodbath with Sock. Even if I died, I wouldn't have regretted it. I take a deep breath and puff out my chest a little. When I return home, I'll need to be brave and confident for my family. They've worried enough about me in the past weeks.

 _Bellona Presque (25)- Head Gamemaker_

My first Hunger Games have been completed. And what a Games they were- the first and only twelve-year old victor, beloved by all and with a strong kill list that would make any Career envious. It couldn't have gone better.

Well, a little better. I grimace. The Career drama was engrossing at first, but became tiresome after a while as the pack slowly dwindled. Many of the strongest tributes were incapacitated in the first week. While Games like that can be exciting for the audience, it also leaves them without any powerful contenders for the crown, as the number of violent battles decreases. While we certainly had some memorable ones, there were also a great deal of action droughts.

Still, I'm proud of everything that I've created, piece by piece of the arena, day by day of watching the screen as I play puppet master. Hearing the praise from the late night shows that review the day's events in the arena, commending the mystery and deadliness of the environment and the actions of the tributes, was like experiencing the best high in my life. All of the adoration for my first victor, my beloved Tag Nylon, was a degree away from adoration for me, the real puppet master.

As my driver takes me back to my villa for the first time in weeks, I realize I probably won't be able to sleep anyway. Maybe I should have stayed at the Gamemaking Center again, conversing with the other Gamemakers and sponsors, watching the coverage of the Games on the television. The knowledge that I orchestrated my first Hunger Games is still singing in my blood, too loud to ignore. I held twenty four lives in the palm of my hand, and only released one.

But I know I need rest for tomorrow's schedule. A meeting with President Snow followed by a televised interview with Caesar Flickerman. Not to mention we already need to start preparing for the return of Tag Nylon to District Eight, and after that the Victory Tour. And next year's arena isn't going to finish construction by itself…

Despite the exhaustion of my job, I love it. I wouldn't have chosen any other career in the Capitol, even as a politician or television host, something with theoretically more power. Gamemaking is a high like nothing else, it's victims and consequences set out plainly for everyone to see.

As the car nears the Gamemaker Square, I can't help but feel disappointed to see that most of the houses have taken down their lights and decorations for the Games. Tomorrow after my interview, the Gamemaking Center will shut off its golden lights as well, officially signalling the end of the season. People will still tune in to watch Tag Nylon reunite with his family, and eagerly await his Victory Tour, but it's still a sad thought.

 _It will come again next year_ , I think to myself as my driver opens the car door for me. I step out and brush off my white dress. I don't spare him a glance as I continue up to the villa. An Avox is already waiting for me outside, not shivering despite the cool night air. She keeps her head bowed as she opens the door for me.

"Did you keep everything clean like I asked?" I ask sharply as I step inside. She doesn't answer, of course. Inside, the lights are already on, which isn't strange in itself considering she and possibly other Avoxes are here, but I can hear chattering in the sitting room. I frown as I quickly move toward the noise.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demand. Three figures are standing in my lavish sitting room, watching Tag's interview with Caesar on my television. One of them turns quickly, and I relax when I see it is Rowan, my head statistician. But my breath catches in my throat as one of the other figures turns, revealing a white beard and sharp blue eyes.

"We have a problem, Miss Presque," says President Snow.


	41. The Victory Tour

**Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy the final chapter of** _ **Born to die.**_ **It's sequel** _ **Ultraviolence**_ **will be started next week. Bonus points to anyone who can guess where I'm getting the titles from (not really, but I'm curious if anyone knows xD).**

 **This means that the tribute applications for the sequel are open! Everyone can submit up to three tributes this time (but you don't have to lol) so PM me to reserve any slots you would like. I'll be accepting three application per tribute slot this time as well, then choosing which tribute I'll use. This means you don't have to be the first person to submit/reserve the slot, just one of the first three. I'll try to use at least one tribute from everyone who submits, but submitting more tributes will give a higher chance of being chosen. And make sure to read all the guidelines before submitting as well. Thanks!**

 **I also changed everyone's points for the sequel. Basically if you had 50-99 points I kept 15, and if you had over 100 I kept 30. If you had less but PMed me, I kept 15.**

* * *

 _Spool Nylon (12)- Victor of the 77th Hunger Games_

"This year was a bigger success than I ever could have imagined." The Head Gamemaker's smile seems genuine, but full of venom and ice. I can tell she would make a formidable opponent in the arena. But I guess she was my ultimate opponent after all.

"We've already started planning for next year, and let me tell you, Caesar, I've never been more excited," she continues, her jet black curls bouncing. "The problem with Gamemaking is that you are your own competition. But I can promise that next year will be even bigger and better than this year!"

The screen turns black with a click from the remote. My mentor sighs as he stands, considering her glass of whiskey. "We'll be there soon," he says absently. His mood has soured since we boarded the train to District Eight, and I can't quite figure out why. Perhaps he's realizing that he'll likely not be returning to the Capitol next year, now that I'm here to take his place. I thought he would be glad, but it seems he doesn't want to go home.

"How soon?" I ask. _Soon_ could mean anything from fifteen minutes to five hours on these bullet trains. We've already been traveling for a day, but I remember the voyage here being much longer.

"An hour or so," he says, waving the question away and leaving for the kitchen. I can tell that he isn't drunk, just not wanting to talk. I sigh as I look around the train car. The chandeliers are just as glittery as before, and the couches just as soft and velvety. And yet something is missing. Several things, actually, Sock being the first and foremost. But also gone is my status as a mere tribute, I realize. My escort treats me differently now. When before I was a little boy that needed looking after but had some potential, now I was a victor of the Hunger Games, one of the most famous people in Panem at the moment. All in two weeks.

Cecelia was the only person aside from me that was excited to return home. She had her own family that was waiting for her back in Eight, and so did I. I've imagined my homecoming for so long that it almost doesn't seem real.

I only have to wait forty minutes until the escort excitedly bursts into my room to tell me we've almost arrived. I rush out alongside her, for once not minding her shrill laughter as we hurry to the exit. I watch out the window as the trees fly past, slowly turning into the desolate wasteland that surrounds District Eight. Soon, buildings are flashing by, gloomy grays and browns that are as familiar as the night sky to me. The four of us stand in a line as the train slows to a halt, right in front of a huge crowd of people that has come to welcome us. Cecelia reaches for my hand lifts it into the air, triggering such a large cacophony that I'm afraid my ears will start ringing. I can't help but giggle like a child as my district welcomes me home.

I can see cameras capturing my reaction, but for once I don't care. I jump down from the train into the crowd, making the escort squeal, but the crowd doesn't hurt me, just surrounds me and cheers my name; my twin's name; some trying to hug me and others giving me flowers and other rare things.

"Tag!"

My head turns to the familiar voice. It's my brother, shouting out his own name through the crowd. I hurry toward it, the crowd parting to let me through. He runs to me before I even see him, wrapping me in a hug.

"We're glad you're back," is all he says, and my lips curl in a smile. The simple greeting the Sock Knights give to each other after we almost get into trouble of some kind, or finish a difficult and likely illegal task.

"Thanks," I murmur back, letting him go. Behind him are our parents, smiling as they embrace me together.

"We love you so much, Tag," my mother says. I wonder if it has been difficult to call Tag by my name all this time. A name is just a name, but our parents are probably the only people in the world that can tell us apart.

"I love you too."

The Peacekeepers eventually usher the crowd away from the train station so that we can return home. Except our old house isn't home anymore- all of our things have already been moved into Victor's Village. Our- _my_ \- mansion is too big for a family of four, but waste has never bothered the Capitol. The cameras make sure to get a good shot of us entering the house- a start to my new fabulous life as a victor. My father closes the door and I silently follow them through the hallways until we enter the kitchen. The oven is on, with dinner apparently cooking. The table is even set.

But the stillness alarms me. Where are the Sock Knights? Why isn't anyone saying anything. My mother silently checks the food, then stands with a sigh. "It needs a little more time." Her eyes fall on me, soft as always. "Spool…"

"Don't call me that!" I hiss quickly, eyes darting around as if the Peacekeepers will burst in and arrest us.

"Don't be afraid," my father says, guiding me with a hand on my shoulder to sit at the elaborate wood table. "It's only us."

"We'll have to get used to it anyway," I object. "A name is just a name, and I've gotten used to going by Tag anyway-"

"You're right, _Tag_ ," the real Tag says, eying our parents. "We have to be careful."

"I just thought you might like to be called your own name one last time," our mother says with a frown. "I won't do it again."

"Good." I let out an exhale and lean back in my chair. Everyone continues to stare at me. I raise my eyebrows in question. "And? Is there something else?"

"Did they tell you?" Tag- _Spool-_ asks abruptly.

A beat of silence. "Did who tell me what?"

He sighs and buries his face in his hands. "It's… they…"

"What?" I ask sharply.

"It's Hessian," my father finishes firmly.

"What about him?" Hessian is one of the Sock Knights, a good friend Tag- _Spool!_ \- and I have had since we started school.

"They killed him," Tag says finally, tearfully. "Last night. The Peacekeepers broke into his house and took him away, saying that he was selling unauthorized fabric."

Despite the shock that initially hits me, I can see the maneuvering here. In a district that makes textiles, selling them with consent from the creators at the factories, through unauthorized channels is technically a crime. You can find people selling fabrics on the street wherever you go, even engaging in trade with Peacekeepers, but it's still a crime… and technically a true one. The Sock Knights have manufactured and sold many different kinds of textiles before.

"That doesn't mean that they killed him," I hear myself say. "He could be in prison."

My brother shook his head sadly. "They sent his parents a notice of his death this morning."

I can't believe it. I stare down at my lap, unable to process something like this. Senseless death has followed me even from the arena.

"It's a warning, isn't it?" I ask softly.

"We don't know what they'll do next," my mother whimpers, and I can tell without looking at her that she's crying. "They might come for one of us."

"No, they won't," I say matter-of-factly. "This is just a message. The Capitol knows that I have a twin, and knows about he Sock Knights. They can't just get rid of everyone." I look up into Spool's face. "If we do something like this again, then someone else will go missing."

"I know," he says gravely.

 _Celia Winterbourne (19)- Victor of the 76th Hunger Games_

Call me stupid, but I like the Victory Tour. It's a nice reminder of what's to come when the season rolls around again, and of course a good dose of inter-district conflict that fuels the Games themselves. I like seeing the reactions of the tribute's families as they watch the victor parade around in their home, the child for whom their own child's life was traded. Some call me cruel, but I harbor no ill will against the other districts. Was it really so cruel to want to talk to the families of the District Seven tributes on my own tour, whose chests I bashed in with my axe?

… Well, maybe a little.

Tag Nylon seems different, though. He isn't arrogant, but he's sure of himself. He stands with a proud back as he waves to District Twelve. Always unlucky Twelve, who have only scored two victors in seventy-seven years and counting. I pity them, the miner's faces covered in coal as they look on Nylon, their dirty clothes and gaunt faces. Maybe if some of the children among them tried to train for the Games and really put some effort into something, they'd be able to win some glory and riches for their district. But the outer districts hate the Games, a fact that I should be grateful for- less competition for my own tributes.

Still, I can see some genuine admiration in their eyes. Maybe being in the presence of the youngest Hunger Games victor in history, a mere twelve year old, gives them hope for their own children. _Maybe you could train some kids so that there will always be a volunteer, and not have to worry about it_! I want to scream at the television. But there's no use in talking sense into them. I tried on my own Tour.

District Eleven isn't much better. I wrinkle my nose as I remember my own experience there- an overcrowded field with far too many children and tesserae applications. The place had smelled like sweat and rotten fruit. I never wished to return there again.

Nylon didn't interact with any of the tributes from Eleven either, same as Twelve. He reads the speech prepared for him and commends the tribute's bravery and kindness. The screen flashes to District Ten now, and I can feel Cato shifting beside me. I elbow him and he moves away. Maybe he doesn't like spending his nights watching the recap of the Victory Tour thus far, but I like to be prepared for our own visit that's happening tomorrow. Not to mention how entertaining it is. Maybe not so far, but I have a feeling Ten won't take so lightly to Nylon killing their most promising tribute in years, Filly. I even remember her name. Partly because I was impressed with her, and partly because she was insane.

Not that I can't relate. We're all plagued by demons in the arena.

The crowd is dead silent as Nylon reads his speech. Filly's family, all males, stand on a platform close to the stage. One of them, probably her father, has tears in his eyes. The other two, most likely a grandfather and brother, watch on in stoic silence. Still, Nylon doesn't go off script. He's a good boy, apparently.

District Nine is as boring as Twelve and Eleven. The only district to lose its chances of winning in the bloodbath, which was too bad. I like seeing some of them wielding sickles in the arena like a tiny grim reaper. The large family that stands for the girl- Grizelda Weaver- has a small baby with them. The man I'm guessing is the father is holding her, staring at the stage with a blank expression. He should be glad. Pregnant girls have gone into the arena before, and none of the babies have ever returned. I guess this was a year for firsts.

District Eight is skipped, the last stop on the tour that will surely be huge celebration. I imagine it will be a spectacular day for Eight, as they probably don't get a lot of reasons to celebrate. However, Nylon still gets an almost-homecoming in Seven. Everyone greets him with cheers and chants of his name as he steps to the platform to speak.

"Seb was my closest ally in the Games," he says with conviction. "But he was more than that. He was a friend, someone I'd even call family. He might not have had his real family with him when he died, but he had me."

The crowd is touched, the cameras sure to catch tears falling from the girlfriend's eyes, her little brother crying openly as well.

"I'll do my best to make sure his memory lives on in the hearts of the nation," Nylon says, nodding toward Sebastian's family, and then looks to the other tribute's. The only person standing for Willow is a girl about her age, proud and without tears, though I can see the determination in her eyes as she stares right into the camera. "And Willow's as well," Nylon finishes. He must remember when she tried to kill Sebastian during the bloodbath and stabbed him in the arm, but he doesn't mention it.

District Six goes smoothly. The people don't seem to care at all about Spool, but Jason's family snubs him a little by not regarding his obituary for their fallen family member. Perhaps they were rooting for Nicolette after Jason's death. They can't be happy with him stealing the victory from her.

District Five would be even more boring, but the tension between the two families now that they know the truth about the fallen tributes' father is palpable in the air. I snigger as I watch the mother of Amelia do her best not to look at her once-lover, who stands stoically beside his new family. I remember them from a few years ago, when Caleb's sister was reaped and killed in the bloodbath. This guy has had three children die in the arena… so unlucky. Or maybe the universe was trying to give them chances, and they just keep failing.

District Four is as sour as I'd expect it to be, and I laugh openly as the family of Nikki watches him with piercing glares. Another family who just can't win. Two times in second place… what could be worse than that? They look as disappointed as they should. Drew's family, on the other hand, seems uncharacteristically distraught for a Career family. They must have had a lot of faith in him, not expecting him to lose his sight and become easy prey.

District Three was just yesterday, and I've already seen the footage, so I click off the TV with a yawn. There's no use in watching the usual Three nonsense, their tributes fallen early as usual.

Nylon will arrive around three o'clock. The families are already prepared for the speech, the crowd pumped to see the youngest victor in history, even if he killed one of our tributes, Hadrian. He had been such a disappointment. I frown as I recall the blind faith Cato and I had put in him, so sure that like us, both 10 scorers, he would be another victor in the District Two dynasty. But he had let us down from the start, although much of what he encountered was bad luck. Maybe we didn't bless him with enough "may the odds be ever in your favor"s.

I step outside of my mansion in Victor's Village, watching as all the other victors bustle about in preparation. As our number grows, the space for us on the stage gets smaller, and so does our opportunities to stay relevant with the Capitol. I go by Enobaria with her sharpened teeth tipped in gold, her makeup dark to accentuate her white fangs. Another victor is wearing a bright purple suit, his eyebrows dyed purple and blowing in the wind. I sigh as I wrap my light blue coat closer around me. I don't look forward to the day that I will be like one of them, desperate for any way to stand out. As the latest Two victor, I can be sure to receive some up-close camera time no matter what.

I'm among the first to arrive to the square. God knows where Cato is. Peacekeepers are setting up tables with signature Two bread and other dishes, hanging up banners welcoming Nylon to our humble district. It's laughable watching the white suits do such menial Avox work when they usually are figures of fear, at least in the other districts that I've been in. Here they might be the nice man that lives down the street or even your old childhood friend, but they still are usually given more respectable tasks than this.

As I ascend the stage where the victors will watch the ceremony, I glance at Rufina's family, who is being instructed by a Peacekeeper on how they should act. Her parents nod blankly, while her sister and brother both have frowns on their faces. I wonder if Drusa regrets not volunteering herself. She had a better chance of winning; that's why the other victors and I chose her as our tribute for this year. But instead she and her sister had to ruin it all when Drusa decided last minute she didn't want to play the Games. Now she's too old; that was her last chance. I watch her grimacing face as she listens to the Peacekeeper with some twisted pleasure. She robbed Two of a possible victory, and so the Games robbed her of a sister. A fair trade if you ask me.

I wait patiently for the rest of the district to arrive, aware that everyone's eyes are on my perfect posture and steady gray eyes. The light blue dress that hangs over my shoulders is probably too light for the weather, but I don't shiver at all. I don't really mind the things that my stylists dress me in anymore: my reputation as the "Ice Queen" in the Capitol due to lack of many facial expressions and emotions led to them dressing me like I was made of ice, as if to hammer the point home. I didn't understand at first, but now I like the curious looks I get, as people wonder if I really am immune to the cold.

As usual, many of the victors are almost late to the ceremony, rushing in at last minute. Cato is one of them, quickly taking his place beside me as the next-to-last victor, buttoning up his suit jacket. I don't bother to ask where he's been.

The doors of the Justice Building open a second later, and the crowd cheers to welcome the newest victor to the lineup. Nylon beams as he steps out, waving to the victors on our stage as he grabs the mic with the other hand. Cato waves back and I roll my eyes.

The noise dies down as Nylon begins to speak. "I didn't know either Hadrian or Rufina personally, but they were fine tributes with a drive to win. They may have fallen, but they will not be forgotten."

As he carries on in a similar manner, I watch Cassius onstage with the rest of Hadrian's family, his spot in our ranks on the victor's stage sorely empty. I haven't spoken to him since I returned to the district, but he seems like he's taking it well. He knows Hadrian was simply hit with a bout of bad luck _We'll do better next year_ , I promise myself.

The speech is over in a matter of time, and the Panem anthem plays as Nylon disappears back into the Justice Building. I hear Cato sigh in relief as he rolls his shoulders. "Time to eat!" he yells loud enough for the other victors to hear.

Sometimes I wish he hadn't won so I didn't have to put up with his drivel.

 _Rowan Loukios (28)- Gamemaker_

With the Victory Tour going extremely well, it seems there's no need to fuss. Still, I've been tossing and turning every night in my bed, hoping that the entire situation will all be forgotten. Bellona hasn't been speaking to me since the incident, but what was I supposed to do? It started as collecting bets on the final three tributes, a task that has to be completed impossibly quickly in case another death happens. The odds seemed to be almost all skewed toward Tag Nylon, the twelve-year old that had stolen the hearts of the Capitol. The other two had their supporters who wished they would win, but it seemed common among the gamblers to realize that Nylon had the temperament to and support to win.

After collecting all the bets, I went back to compare them to the bets made throughout the Games, as per usual. The odds of Nylon's victory had increased as time in the arena dragged on, which is typical. But what confused me was why his odds had gone up so drastically after his first appearance in the Capitol, and especially after his interview. He had received such a low number of bets after his reaction at the Reaping, then apparently had a complete personality makeover by the time of the Tribute Parade. Tributes are trained for their interviews, but the Parade usually doesn't show any more sides of the tribute than what they revealed at the Reaping. And yet… he was different.

I couldn't put my finger on it, but something was wrong. After his victory, I tried to stop looking into it, but I couldn't. I eventually found footage from the security cameras at District Eight's Justice Building, which showed one Nylon entering his waiting room with his hair dyed purple, and another Nylon leaving with his hair dyed a more shocking shade, as if it had been dyed earlier. The Nylon that remained in Eight had the lighter shade, which he eventually dyed again a few days after his brother was taken to the Capitol.

I had tried to keep it from the higher-ups. I tried to tell Bellona and only Bellona, but someone was alerted that I had been snooping around Eight's cameras for days on end. I had no choice but to tell them what I had discovered. My own life was would be on the line otherwise.

I sigh as I roll over yet again, finally sitting up and turning on the light on my nightstand. I ran a hand over my face as I reached for my tablet. I turned it on and checked my messages, but Bellona still hadn't replied to any of them. I quickly typed out another for her and checked the time. It was almost time to get up anyway.

I eat my breakfast alone in my large kitchen. The Avox will arrive soon to clean the mansion, but she's not exactly good company. Even if she could talk, the Avoxes are too conditioned not to even look at their masters. I wonder when Bellona and the rest of the Gamemakers will arrive at the training center, if at all. Today, the Nylon boy arrives at District One, and tomorrow he'll be here in the Capitol. I can't help but feel excitement for the event, but it's not the kind of excitement that I used to feel for the Games. I'm just excited to be out of the house again. President Snow blamed Bellona for the blunder with Nylon, but she blamed me for letting it out before coming to her. She gave me an involuntary break from my job, and I'm sure I'll be demoted from my position as Head Statistician and she'll give it to whoever has been covering me for the past few months.

But she can't stop me from coming tomorrow. I'm still a Gamemaker and have to attend the ball at the President's mansion, whether she wants me to or not, unless she'd like to fire me. And that hasn't happened yet, if it will. Perhaps she's still considering it.

I lounge around in the living room as the Avox cleans the kitchen and my bedroom, wondering if I should try to talk to Bellona at the ball. She'll certainly be busy, but this Victory Tour is as much of a celebration for her as it is for the victor. She won't be working, simply overcome with fans and admirers. On the TV, District One prepares hurriedly for Tag Nylon to arrive. If he wasn't Tag before, he certainly is now. Banners fly throughout the square with his name written in bright letters, the reporters saying as many times as possible along with his age as if to let it sink in just how historic this victory is. We can only hope that it will stay historic for his age, not for anything else that might come to light. Bellona and Snow had been quick to come up with a plan to prevent that from happening.

As noon approaches, so does the ceremony in One. I watch as Nylon steps to the microphone, smiling despite the quiet smattering of applause. I can tell by the disgruntled looks on everyone's faces that they aren't pleased with him stealing a victory from Tiffany Silk. She certainly would have made a fine victor. Better than all this trouble. As Nylon begins his speech about Tiger and Tiffany's bravery and sacrifice, Tiffany's parents glares at him with the brightness of a thousand diamonds in the sun. Her sister seems distraught, tears filling her eyes as she watches on. She clearly thought Tiffany would win with no problem.

Tiger's family is similar, all of them standing despondent. I know that his parents are some of the finest trainers in ONe, so I can only hope that this loss won't affect their teaching. We need powerful Careers to make the next Games a memorable one, especially after the Career pack this year.

I snort at myself. _Still thinking like a Gamemaker when tomorrow will probably be your last day on the job._

Nylon gives an uncomfortable wave, but he holds it together nicely. For his age, he's smart, and he knows how to act. Even in front of an entire square of people that hate your guts.

There's a sudden knock at the door. I squint over at it, my pulse suddenly racing. I should have known better than to think Bellona was going to leave me alone and let me attend the ball. What horrors could she have planned for me?

I shoo the Avox away into the other room and quickly stand, taking a deep breath. I'll go out strong if this is the last time I'll see my home.

The person knocks again, more insistent this time. I slowly walk to the door and peer through the peephole. I'm flooded with relief when I see who it is, then again with suspicion. Still, I open the door. "What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Well, let me in," Marcelle Agelasta snaps. "It's not polite to let your guests stand out in the cold."

"I didn't invite you," I say pointedly, glancing around the doorstep before closing the door.

"Relax, I came alone. I'm here to talk to you."

Her heels click on the marble floor of the kitchen, then soften as she enters the sitting room. She clucks as she watches the coverage of the Victory Tour on the television. "That poor boy. One and Four will always go after his tributes, after what he did to them."

"I suppose…"

She's wearing a bright pink fuzzy dress today that looks like it was made of real flamingo feathers. Her blonde hair is straightened and falls down her back in waves, pink highlights faded now.

"You look terrible," she comments, and I realize she was taking me in the same way I was her.

"Thanks," I say with a deep sigh, falling onto the couch. "You haven't told me why you're here."

"Well, no one knows why you're here, either," she says with a sniff. "Something about faking bets… embezzling… it doesn't make any sense. Everyone knows you wouldn't do something like that."

I stay silent. Denying it could bring Bellona's full wrath upon me.

"The other statisticians are lost without you. Honestly, Bellona is too." Marcelle sits next to me, looking into the distance. "We were once a team, the three of us. Do you remember that? When we were in Gamemaker training?"

"Yes, of course I remember."

"Everything changed when she was promoted to Head Gamemaker," Marcelle says with a nasty edge in her voice.

"It was always her dream. And to be head statistician was mine-"

"And mine was to be an arena designer, and I was. Until she put me on sponsor duty." She turns to me suddenly, a bright glint in her eye. "Don't you see what's going on? She's afraid of us. She realizes that we're competition, and she's trying to get rid of us."

"That's not exactly-"

"Then what is it? Why would she get rid of her best statistician for no reason? And you know I was never the best at designs but I held that arena team together. I was their ringleader, and Head Gamemaker Presque shoved me aside." She says her name and title like it's poison in her mouth.

"Marcelle…"

She looks to me expectantly, as if daring me to provide another explanation. And even if she might be wrong about my break, I know she's partly right. Bellona has always had a vicious jealous side, and a need to be the best in any room she steps in.

"She'll be shoved aside herself in a few years anyway," I say. "Head Gamemakers last for four years at best."

"Then we need to make sure we're still here after she's gone," Marcelle says gravely. "She'd rather kill us than have us take over for her after she's retired."

 _Tag Nylon (13)- Victor of the 77th Hunger Games_

My life in Eight has changed so much over the past months that I expected the Capitol to change in some way as well, but it looks the exact same as the last time I was here. The glittering lights, the fast cars and disorienting hordes of people dressed in outlandish colors. The only difference is the light snowfall that covers the ground. But according to my escort, snow here is a rare occurrence. She acts like I should be grateful to see it when I've grown up in large snowfalls every winter in Eight.

As my stylists dress me for the Presidential ball, all I can think about is going home. The Tour has been tiring, even if I've been doing my best not to let it show on camera. These two weeks have somehow felt longer than the nearly six months I spent at home after the Games. Seeing the faces of the tributes that I trained with those months ago lit up behind their grieving families as I was forced to speak to them- a horror within itself. I wish I could just leave it all behind, but I can't. I'll have to return six months later for the next Games, where I'll be mentoring a pair of unlucky kids like me and Sock. I'll never be able to go back to being just Tag. _Just Spool._

The night is a whirlwind of activity as the escort and I hurry to the President's mansion. Tonight I'm dressed in yet another purple tux, but this one is lighter in color, more of a lavender, with lights accents of other pastel colors throughout. It really isn't the most hideous thing I've worn on the tour, but I'm tiring of purple. They had even made me dye my fringe back to its iconic color even though it had faded during my time at home.

"Just remember to have fun!" my escort waves her arms dramatically as we approach the mansion. "And remember to go along with whatever topic your conversation partner wants to talk about. No talking about fallen tributes unless they bring it up first. But enjoy yourself!"

I roll my eyes at her bipolar instructions. You'd think I'd get used to her presence after all this time together, but it really just makes me hate her more.

The President's mansion is just as grand as I expected, with chandeliers hanging from every inch of the ceiling, velvet cushions lining the couches and even the floor. Tables upon tables are lined with food, some that I've tried and some that seem so strange I don't want to get near them. The place is packed with people, of course, who all want to shake my hand and congratulate me. My escort introduces them all to me, their names and faces passing through my brain and leaving immediately. Actors, singers, investors, politicians, TV personalities… they all meld together like a Capitol soup. All sweltering underneath the heat of the crystal chandeliers, the steam from the food, the body heat that presses together until I just can't take it anymore.

I manage to escape an hour or so after arriving, finding a balcony that I slip onto. I breathe in the cool night air and watch the trees that surround the President's estate. A few people are laughing on the ground below me, their clipped Capitol accents making my blood boil. I find a wicker chair to sit in and melt into it, wishing I could disappear from this place and never return.

"Mr. Nylon?"

I try not to sigh in exasperation as I sit up, expecting to see another brightly colored humanoid with a garish smile. Instead I see a fairly normal looking woman, her black hair tied in a bun, her green eyes watching me sharply. She's dressed in a full crocodile skin, the head framing her own and tail dragging on the ground behind her like a morbid dress train.

I give her a tight smile and stand, reaching out to shake her hand. When she touches me, her fingers are ice cold.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" she asks with a twinkle in her eye.

"Let me guess," I say wearily. "Fashion designer?"

She laughs, but not in a mean way. "Perhaps one day. But I'm currently working my dream job as Head Gamemaker."

Ah. So this was the mastermind behind everything in the arena. She might have even had a hand in killing Hessian. But surprisingly, I don't feel angry, or even afraid. I just smile tiredly. "Congratulations."

Her eyes narrow. "That's it?"

I'm too exhausted to react, but I don't know what to say. "I'm sorry?"

"Don't you want to know what the black figure was that you saw? Or how my venomous feline mutts found you in that cave? Or even what the next arena will be like for your own tributes?"

I look her steadily in the eyes. "Not really."

She huffs, but her gaze is still determined. "Well, I have some questions for you."

"About?" I ask, starting to feel a little hesitant. What if she asks about my brother?

She apparently senses my misgivings and rolls her eyes. "Don't worry. I have no interest in your identity. I want to know what it is like to kill someone. How does it feel to shoot a crossbow into someone's heart? Into their throat, knowing that your own life in on the line?"

She steps closer to me, as if in a trance, her eyes a little unfocused.

I back away, disgusted. "Lady, we're all born to die, not just us tributes. Maybe you'll find that out soon for yourself."

Then I brush past her and back into the party. I haven't tried any of the food yet, and my escort swore that the chocolate strawberries were the best I'd ever taste.

* * *

 **And so it ends! I hope everyone enjoyed the final chapter.**

 **The Capitol appearance is supposed to start with yet another interview with Caesar Flickerman, but I figured we'd had enough of those.**

 **I'm excited to read everyone's tributes! You can reserve or send them in as soon as you like. Just check to make sure the slot you want has an opening. May the odds be ever in your favor!**


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